Tremulous and Tender
by Scarlett Rose
Summary: UPDATED 072706. My apologies to everyone for not updating sooner. I appreciate your patience.
1. Rehearsal

Frightful noise, that. Imagine possessing the audacity to use such a vulgar instrument in a public place...  
  
His tone was off today; moreso than usual. Inwardly, I shuddered at the repulsive wail that intended to pass for musical ability. Turning from my shadow in Box Five, I was amazed at the utter, complete boredom that had lured me from my dark, safe shelter below. Tediously leaning my head against the draped wall, I closed my eyes and contemplated boredom.  
  
The Khanum had once demanded my presence because of her boredom.."I'm bored, Erik. Bored, bored, bored!". The depraved, disgusting woman asked me, point blank, if I had ever..had ever..."Have you ever had a woman, Erik? I could arrange it, you know. I could arrange it very easily." And she had; the little sultana, barely a woman, who would rather die than have me touch her.  
  
Yes, boredom had caused several deaths in my sordid past.  
  
I must find something to occupy myself. There is nothing more to do now that Garnier and I have completed my masterpiece - my monument to music. The only solace I have ever known. Wincing at the yowl that Piangi had tried to send Heavenward, I knew I must leave immediately or risk killing him. Putting my hand to door, I sensed rather than heard the presence of others. Instantly and silently, I ensconced myself inside the hidden, hollow column of Box Five congratulating myself on the foresight of placing so many concealed and unknown such places in the Opera House. Giggling and hurried, light footsteps, the quick closing of the box door and I knew I was a prisoner of excited, adolescent dancers. Rolling my eyes, I acknowledged I would have to wait impatiently for these brave children. Foolish females who would no doubt recount their bold exploits to awed peers at the first available opportunity.  
  
"Shhhhhh!!! He'll hear you!" whispered a breathless female voice. Hushed by fear of the unknown and the certain proximity of a bored opera ghost, the girls tried to remain silent. But the ensuing clumsy,ungraceful bumps and squeals would surely have Madame Giry in a fury, had she known.  
  
"This is silly, there is no one here!"  
  
"Quiet, you goose! He'll hear you and punish you for your insolence!"  
  
And I had the presumption to believe that Piangi's bellows were the most irksome situation I would encounter that day. Truly, God does have a sense of humor.  
  
My ears were assaulted by that insufferable noise emanating through the column from the stage. Along with being held captive by excited adolescents - it was really too much. "This is what comes from being bored." I silently chided myself wearily.  
  
Of course, I thought suddenly with a wicked delight, I am the Opera Ghost. It's not as though I went looking to terrorize these children - they did come seeking me. Smiling evilly, I chose to feed my already horrifying reputation and give these girls what, or whom, they sought. 


	2. Memory

Waiting for precisely the right moment during a pause from the stage, I stood silently. Using a ventriloquism trick learned long ago, I seemingly roared inside each of their heads, "Who dares to disturb Box Five! Be off with you trespassers!!!!"  
  
Without question, the ensuing screams and tumult were extremely gratifying. There would be bruises to be explained at another time since those girls seemed to be literally running into each other in a frantic, desperate rush for the door. In spite of myself, I could not help but laugh out loud and resisted the impulse to peek out at bolting ballet slippers. It was quite delightful and I felt a vague gratitude to the silly girls who had innocently cheered me immensely. The scene in box five, along with the subsequent screams, had also mercifully put an end to the rehearsal below. Bless the children, I thought.  
  
Later, after I was sure that the rehearsal was abandoned while no doubt the poor girls were being comforted from their horrible fright, I slid into the shadows of the hallway. As I entered my secret door, I remembered how many times I had used my vocal abilities to manipulate and deceive. Would all my interactions with others be in such sepulcher and devious quality?  
  
After arriving to my lair, the familiar silence surrounded me. Shrugging off my cloak, I once again sat down to my piano beginning an old French composition I wrote as a child. God, I loved music....the notes seemed to lift me up over the monotony and gloom of my existence. Melodies that took me to places no one else could follow - places where I was alone with the score. A wonderful retreat where it did not matter what one looked like......only the music.....only the music.........  
  
Abruptly recalling my mother's reaction to my compositions, I stopped playing - lost in thought. She called my music "unholy" along with my voice. She did not permit me to sing after that time. Only when she was absent from the house did I sing to my heart's content. It suddenly occurred to me in a clarity of light that the only real interaction I've ever had with a woman was through my voice.  
  
If only it were possible for me to love a woman with only my voice. My horrific face hidden from her view. Somehow to just surround her with the pure pleasure and arousing movement of the notes. I would make love to her with the caress of my music as I was denied to do with my hands. To touch her with my gift of inflection; envelop her in the passion long denied me. She would be beautiful, this woman, like an angel. Certainly, angels are not concerned with looks. An angel............  
  
Surely she would find me the most ardent, seductive lover. My mind wandered and imagined such a woman returning that provocative benediction with her own voice - touching me with her own song. Wanting me, loving me, kissing me.............  
  
My daydream reluctantly ended in the harsh face of reality. "To make love to a woman with my voice," I reproached myself aloud. Truly, my psyche was disturbed. Still, the thought was intriguing. 


	3. Premonition

Before Act 1 began, I disinterestedly gazed out from behind my hiding place in box five. All the Paris elite, parading before each other their golden trinkets like spoiled children. The women in their silks, furs and jewels and husbands in debonair evening clothes. The affluent murmur of pleasantries, jealous glances and petty gossip, once again. Oh Garnier, did we truly labor to build just a large playhouse? I had yet to hear a decent choral rendition although the orchestra was passable. Well, the Opera was young yet and I comforted myself with the pride for the magnificent possibilities in this building. Someday, there would be a voice on that stage to bring tears to the audience's eyes.  
  
Directly across from me, I observed a couple completely absorbed in each other. She was a beautiful, aristocratic woman with upswept, blonde curls and he the exact opposite with Parisian dark, good looks. He whispered what were no doubt declarations of love to her. She responded by looking deeply into his eyes. At one point, her hand caressed his cheek as though he were a young god. Ashamed at myself for gawking into the private affairs of these young people, I also warred with the inexcusable rage in my chest. Never, in this life, would I know such intense feelings between two people. Doomed to merely observe - like a lifeless gargoyle. Yet just to know how that feels; to experience the touch of a woman's hand on my face, her eyes looking lovingly into mine. No, I reminded myself sternly that I had accepted my solitary life years ago. Gratefully, I turned my attention to the stage as the orchestra began the Overture but not before I enviously glanced across toward the couple once more.  
  
@-------^--------------  
  
At times, I would climb the never-ending stairs to the roof of the Opera. Every so often, even the Phantom needed some fresh air. As I opened the door to the roof this evening, I realized with pleasure that it was raining. Rain meant an almost assured solitude. Wrapping my cloak around me for warmth against the cold, I pulled my fedora lower on my forehead. Thus prepared, I stepped out into the elements. There was an appropriately ghostly mist on the roof which made the dim lights of Paris soft. For many minutes, I stood in the rain staring out of the fog.  
  
After checking the perimeter of the rooftop to be sure I was completely alone, I impulsively took my mask off and slipped it inside my cloak. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the Heavens and felt the delicious sensation of raindrops. Of all in my life that I have had seen and learned, this was a totally new experience for me. Never had I felt rain on my naked face. The exhilaration of merely feeling overtook me and I spread my arms wide to embrace it.  
  
@-------^--------------  
  
The fire crackled in the hearth as I read. Absently stroking Ayesha, I raised my head, listening to the silence. So quiet, almost like a tomb. Quite accustomed to seclusion, in fact - preferring it - I wondered at my sudden inquietude. Since burying myself underneath the Opera House, I had seldom allowed introspection. It was all too tiresome and would not change circumstances. It never before bothered me to remain left to myself - with my experiments, music and the occasional prank as the Phantom of the Opera.  
  
Yet, all of a sudden, I felt stifled in this room.  
  
Assuming it to be lack of exercise, I stood and stretched luxuriously. Ayesha meowed at this disturbance of her nap and, in apology, I scratched her behind her ear. "Well, my love, I do believe I shall have a walk." It had been over a fortnight since my antics with the corps de ballet in box five. In all truth, the girls had come looking for me and I merely obliged their wishes. "No gentlemen ever denies a lady, now does he?", I smiled wryly. Simply to disrupt the monotony, I really should investigate what terrible tales were being circulated about the Opera Ghost. After all, I had my reputation to uphold.  
  
My salary was due again and I would request another meeting with Poligny in box five to discuss the situation with my reluctant, frightened benefactor. A cursory glance toward the clock on the mantle revealed that it was still very early morning and I should not meet any undesired company in the hallways. Musing as I dressed, I wondered when people would realize that time was a mere illusion. Illusion was an art at which I had always excelled. Unbidden came a long ago recollection , "I can make anything disappear, if I want to..." Yes. Everything except my monstrous face.  
  
Pulling my hat and cloak off the rack, I abruptly stopped at the door with a sense of foreboding. This exasperating uneasiness that harried my thoughts lately was growing with sense of dread. Time with the gypsies had given me a partial belief in superstition and omen. The odd hesitation was new to me because I had never felt threatened here in my haven below ground. I knew that I was aptly prepared to defend myself and my home against intruders if necessary. So why this uncertainty and indecision to leave the house? "Stay here, where you are safe." This voice whispered.  
  
My hand was on the stone yet I could not exert the pressure to open it. I must have stood there for many long minutes examining this unusual doubt and powerless in its grip. So strong was this emotion that I realized my hands had begun to shake.  
  
Disgusted by my weakness, I deliberately and forcefully opened the door and stepped into the passage. Really, I was getting maudlin in my old age. What was there to fear? 


	4. Warnings

~~~~~~~~~ indicates a flashback.  
  
My normally silent footsteps echoed satisfactorily as I strolled through my palace in the pre-dawn hours. I had learned at a young boy to move as quietly and as cat-like as possible in order to steal for the gypsies and later for myself. So the novelty of hearing my footfalls on the marble floors was curiously enjoyable. Drifting contentedly through the building, I occasionally reached out to touch the cold marble like an ardent lover. It was difficult to believe how many years had passed unnoticed during the construction. Smiling to myself, I wondered what Garnier was up to these days. His was the only semblance of friendship I had except for the vexatious relationship with Nadir. Still, it was somewhat consoling to know that I did indeed have a conscience. Even if he were an annoyance at times.  
  
In thinking of the Daroga, my mind recalled a recent conversation between us.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Certainly you know you cannot continue to live such a secluded life, Erik. It isn't good for a man to live in such isolation.", Nadir droned on while leaning against the wall by the lake.  
  
"Ah, but you forget, my dear Daroga, that I am not in isolation. If I were in true isolation, we would not be having this conversation, now would we?", I sarcastically replied. I was reclined on the ground with my arm resting on my knee watching him warily.  
  
Exhaling in exasperation, Nadir looked at me pointedly. I could perceive there was something sensitive he wished to discuss and steeled myself for his onslaught. In no way was I prepared for his next comment.  
  
"Erik, don't you ever need......well, companionship?"  
  
I did not have to ascertain his meaning as I rose swiftly to turn away from him. "Damn you, Nadir. How could you even ask me that? After what you witnessed in Mazanderan...."  
  
He hung his head in shame, but continued to speak softly, "No man can live without slaking certain..........urges, Erik. There is no disgrace in this."  
  
I was as still as a statue as I spat out, "No - Nadir! There is no disgrace in such desires UNLESS IT IS A MONSTER WHO LUSTS AND WANTS! I am not permitted such privileges!" My entire body was quaking in fury as we both listened to my enraged voice echo along the lake enclosure. Any other man who would dare speak such utterances in my presence would have long gone to see Allah. Nadir was precariously close himself at this moment.  
  
"Forgive me, my friend. It is only that I worry for you at times. My concern is merely a product of my anxiety for you." he murmured eyeing me.  
  
Silence reigned for several moments and it took immense control for me to stand there in my abject humiliation.  
  
"No man is an island, Erik. Sooner or later, you will have to admit that. Whether by choice or by fate. It is not natural." he whispered softly.  
  
"Your concerns are unfounded, Daroga, and you seem to forget the rejection for which I am condemned to this island. I have my music and my morphine - that is all I need. Now, if you will excuse me from this tiresome conversation." I declared while heading towards my boat.  
  
"Until next week, my friend." He called out. Like an irritating reminder and subtle threat that I had better meet him at the appointed time.  
  
It was damnable to have a conscience.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Why should I remember such an embarrassing moment with such intense premonition now? I discovered I had stopped in my tracks while lost in thought. Shaking my head as if to clear it, I continued my excursion and questioned my sanity. Could I be slowly losing my mind to the morphine and the sphere of my imagination? Sighing audibly, I decided I must find something to occupy my time. Well, I could rectify that easily enough. Listing the various projects I was working on at the time, I foolishly attempted to ignore the persistent voice that followed me.  
  
Turning to the left, I entered Poligny's office through the door (no need to be ghostly at this time of night). I left him a note on his office chair while noticing on his desk some legal papers. Scrutinizing them, I comprehended he intended to leave the employ of the Opera Populaire. I wearily conceived that I would have to break in yet another manager in order to keep Jules' family with provision. Then again, I could not expect many men to remain in a position of subjection to the fear-inspiring Opera Ghost. It occurred to me that I had been particularly too successful in my haunting techniques. No matter I shrugged as I locked the office, I could do it once more. Men were all too easily fooled by their senses.  
  
I once more prided myself on my unique perspective standing outside the human race. Disdainfully aloof, I held mere men in contempt in no way counting myself among them. Experience had shown me that I could hold life and death in my hands yet neither of them concerned me. Showing no preference for one over the other, I did what I had to in order to survive. Nevertheless, those who showed such a cowering weakness to my prowess received no pity from me.  
  
For once, I was grateful that I had been spared from the messiness of emotions. 


	5. Cognition

"Forgetting my normal caution, I moved from the shadows to the velvet-hung ledge of the box and looked down. I looked out into the bright light of the auditorium's new electric globes.  
  
And the knife that I had dimly feared all these months buried itself to the hilt in my throat.  
  
Her name was a stranger's, unfamiliar and foreign.  
  
But she was not a stranger to me. I knew this girl..." ------- Susan Kay/Phantom  
  
Succumbing at last to my relentless addiction, I felt the morphine speed its delicious evil through my blood. God, I had held out as long as possible - two weeks now. Denying myself as punishment in the desperate, trembling effort to forget.....................her.  
  
Weakly, I made my way to the divan stumbling as though I were an old man. Something had irrevocably changed the instant that I stared out in wonderment from box five.  
  
Nothing would ever be the same again and I knew this with a certainty that frightened me.  
  
Sprawling heedlessly, my arm covering my eyes, I reluctantly permitted myself to rest. How much I would give for a mere moment - a moment! - of peace. I had been frenzied in my struggle to convince myself that this could not be - cannot be! My absolute desire for her obliterated everything else.  
  
"What kind of new cruelty have you devised now, God?" I whispered. "A face I never thought to see again; even more beautiful than the first. Oh, please." I sobbed pathetically. Was it not enough what I had already endured in my life? Was this brutal penance necessary chastisement for my reprehensible crimes? My soul begged for mercy as I lay weeping great tears.  
  
Ever so gradually, the morphine was spinning its magic web around my tortured mind. Mercifully, the present began to recede to a soft, hazy dream as I floated along pointlessly.  
  
In my dreams, disturbing images came unbidden. At one point, I was standing in the middle of a river of blood. I could not fight the tide that took me along with it and desperately attempted to get to the shore. Nadir tried to assist me but used great caution so as not to get any of the blood from the river on himself. A feeling of panic washed over me as I realized that escape was impossible. I had put myself here and now I would have to face the consequences. But, oh - I wanted to be free! All my life I had feigned unconcern over my horrendous crimes - but really, I did want to be good! Eventually, I gave up fighting the tide and prepared to be taken under with the force of it. Then, to my surprise, I noticed someone in white struggling out into the river to rescue me. Earnestly, I reached out to my savior, my unknown rescuer dimly noticing that while in the same depths as I, their white robe never got bloody. A hand grasped my own leading me to safety - to the shore - while, somehow, the tide didn't seem as fierce when there were two people. Finally at the shore, safe at last, I gratefully gazed up into the face of the one who risked everything to save me..and it was Christine.  
  
When I awoke, I attempted to conduct myself with some semblance of normalcy, but it was in vain. My numbed indifference to the world had been shattered as hopelessly as a mirror. The conviction that life would never again be the same assaulted me, taunted me. The ungovernable impulse to see her once more began to overwhelm me and I hated the intensity of it. Heretofore, I had invariably reigned control over my disobedient body and its desires. Now, I scoffed at my smug delusion that I was superior to the ravages of men....of love. Oh, this was much more potent than morphine and I despised the ungovernable wickedness that left me powerless to its whims. I knew I would have to see her again. 'Just look upon her' I lied to myself shakingly. The thought began to grow until I had convinced myself that I must see her again to prove that it was all in my deluded mind.....that face. 


	6. Plans

Returning below, I removed my cloak and fell wearily into my chair by the fire. Ayesha jumped up on my lap and I stroked her soft fur absently. She purred while gently digging her claws into me, looking up at me as if to say, "You've been distant, my Master." I sighed loudly as I gave her my full attention and apologized with lavish strokes for my absentmindedness. Forgiving, she curled next to me, falling asleep with a speed I envied.  
  
Three weeks now and I have fallen into a predicable routine. Each evening, I wait for Christine to enter her dressing room, hiding myself like a thief behind her mirror. I was now grateful I had the foresight to install that mirror I invented on a whim, which allowed me to view the room as through a window. Some perverse fancy had come over me to conceal secret spaces all over the property during construction of the Opera House that were known only to myself. Thus, while her dresser applies her makeup and brushes her luxuriant hair, I stand enraptured and unmoving behind my shield. Worshipping her silently and stealthily, all the while trying to forget that I had promised myself this time was the last time. My budding audacity was regulated to the recesses of my mind; the need to see her was as involuntary as my heart beat.  
  
Love clawed at me incessantly as I observed her. Innocent and enchantress was she, and the combination was terminally sensual. Both reverence and hunger fought brutally for dominion within my tormented body. Regardless of how I reproached myself with the facts that these yearnings were positively lewd at my age - my mind steadfastly ignored me.  
  
I had learned some of her melancholy past from eavesdropping on the other dancers. It appeared that Christine was very much alone in the world - a position no one could appreciate more than I. My days were occupied with thinking on how I might bridge our lonely worlds.....only to be blasted in the face of reason. Remembering bitterly how I wished that I could make love to a woman with my voice - only my voice - I knew a furious frustration at my powerlessness.  
  
Sentenced to the fringes of life, this man could only love from afar. I wished my cruel flesh would accept that fact and cease its anguish.  
  
Standing, I ran my fingers carelessly through my hair. I would find a way, somehow, to make contact with her. Defeat and failure had never before been an option and surely would not be now.....not when I desired association with her more than anything in my entire life. Exhaling sharply, I recalled her untrained, yet perfect, voice raised in song for the Opera Ghost. What faultless register! Picturing what could be if I were allowed the honor to mold, to shape that ideal instrument. She had more to offer than she realized and could accomplish far more than all of the chorus girls. Just the image of our two voices entwined in song was enough to arouse me in a fiery grip. Christine's voice and my own, meshed in music as one......  
  
Jolting myself willfully from my reverie, I knew that I must make devise a way to arrange communication with Christine. I charged wildly forward, not stopping to evaluate the consequences of such an action, plagued by my love for her. An impasse had been reached. Something must be done or I would surely lose my tenuous hold on sanity.  
  
@-------^--------------  
  
Poor Jules believed me mad. He looked at my list of requests then stared up at me in disbelief. "Monsieur?....."  
  
"I am expecting company in the near future." I retorted curtly with a stare from under my hat that brooked no argument.  
  
"Oui, monsieur, it will be as you wish. However, I believe you have given me far too much money for such purchases. I do not think it will cost nearly what you..." I quickly interrupted him, "You know my preferences, Jules, I want only the finest quality. Whatever is left over, you may keep for your family." I waved away his protests.  
  
"Monsieur Erik, that is most generous of you. I cannot express my gratefulness." he stammered.  
  
Each time I sent him out for me on various errands, he delivered the same speech. Despite my past sins, I held a singular sympathy for Jules. He was a very weak man and terribly frightened of me. It was the least that I could do to provide his family with more food for their table.  
  
"Very well. We shall meet here in two weeks time." I stated flatly.  
  
"Oui, monsieur, I will have made much progress by then." Jules replied.  
  
Turning to end our conversation, I recognized he had more to say. I slowed, looking over my shoulder.  
  
"Pardon my boldness, Monsieur Erik, but I....I am glad for you." Jules faltered with a bow of his head.  
  
I nodded briefly and continued down to the lake, confused by the tears that were threatening.  
  
@-------^--------------  
  
My two new managers were quite a bit more difficult to control than dear Poligny. Richard and Moncharmin became somewhat irritated that the resident ghost wished to be paid for his services, and paid handsomely. It took several "mysterious" incidents in their offices for my salary to be left in box five by the faithful Madame Giry. I was especially anxious to receive my salary promptly now that I had preparations to be made for Christine. God knows why I was planning for her to stay with me as she did not even know of my existence! In any case, arrangements were underway as I waited impatiently for the right opportunity.  
  
The new managers fawned disgustingly over La Carlotta, our current diva. If she only knew the comments made behind her back by those two, her tantrum would be a spectacle. Several different shows were being considered but I believed that 'Hannibal' would be the next production. I attended rehearsals each day to stay informed of progress and also to see Christine. She worked unceasingly and moved with an inherent grace, but I could see that she would never be a great dancer. She seemed preoccupied somehow and I would always wonder what was on her mind. Her heart was just not in the stringent routines that Madame Giry surveyed over with an uncompromising observation.  
  
"Soon, my Christine, soon.", I promised.  
  
[Author's Note: It was my intention to re-tell Erik's story from his pov. However, he is insisting that I change the plot. My muse commands.....] 


	7. Contact

spoke to her.  
  
Christine had just come in her dressing room from a particularly trying rehearsal. She slammed her dressing room door with uncharacteristic anger. I watched with concern as she paced up and down the floor finally throwing herself onto the divan in a torrent of tears. Finally, she looked up almost directly at me, causing me to freeze automatically. Her beautiful face was wet with tears and she whispered as though in prayer, "Oh Papa, I miss you so much! I'll never amount to anything as a dancer much less a singer. You lied to me, Papa, and I fear that I've failed you. How I wish there were truly an Angel of Music that could teach me to sing!" Her head lowered again in despair.  
  
I could not breathe and had to stumble across to the wall in order to stay upright. The deviousness of what I thought to do was swiftly overridden by the knowledge that this! This was my opportunity to link our lives! I could teach her, shape her voice and without her ever seeing my face! The cold, damp air of the passage entered my lungs filling me with a new surge of strength. I stood outside her mirror and began to sing softly, imperceptibly at first and then growing in volume until the very air around my Beloved seemed to swirl with music. Her sobbing had concluded but she continued to breath heavily. I watched her cautiously sit straight up and look all around her trying to determine the source of my voice. Her eyes were wide and an expression of incredulous rapture glazed her expression. My heart beat madly in my chest as I watched her expression turn to bliss. Her eyes grew heavy, closing and her precious lips were parted. I rejoiced in the seductive power my voice had to move her. Smoothly, I ended my song and she gradually came out of her dreamlike state. "Angel?" she whispered, tentatively.  
  
"I am here, Christine." I answered while using my voice to seem as though I were right next to her.  
  
She jumped slightly, looking around as though to see me.  
  
"I am honored by your Presence. Are you here to teach me?" she questioned innocently.  
  
"Yes, Christine. Your voice is merely inexperienced and I will show you how to use the gift you have been given. We shall meet here in your dressing room each morning before rehearsal. I expect you to give yourself completely to my tutelage. You will display the discipline required or I will not instruct you." I offered, already knowing she would not refuse me.  
  
"Oh, yes, my Angel. It shall be as you say. Each morning before rehearsal. I am most grateful...." she lapsed into silence, uncertain what to say.  
  
"Very well. A demain."  
  
"Until tomorrow, my Angel." Christine murmured before I left her.  
  
"My Angel." Christine called me her angel and sweeter words were never before heard by a man. She believed me to be an Angel of Music sent to her to teach her to sing. Tears formed in my eyes at the thought of being such a glorious presence to her. Leaning back in my chair before the fire, I allowed myself the indulgence of remembering her words. Of course, I could not hope to ever be a real man to her. She would never be repulsed by my face because she would never see it. My flight of fancy had become a heavenly reality, I thought. Even though I will never be able to make love to Christine as a man, I can make love to her musically as an Angel. Something no other man will ever be able to do with her. A bond shared only between Christine and myself. It was an opening never before available to me and I clutched it. 


	8. Beyond

I had been instructing Christine for over three months now and her accomplishments were simply astounding. As I had known it would, her voice had grown upward and onward under my tutelage. When she'd come each morning into her dressing room, she would gaze somewhere towards the ceiling and smile shyly. Oddly, she always sensed when I was there behind her mirror. Her perception made me disconcerted. Hesitantly, she would lay down her cloak and whisper "Angel?" And then my heart would begin to beat once more and I felt as though I could finally breathe. Hours between her lessons lagged with an eternal sluggishness. At times, we would briefly talk about various subjects - her father, her childhood, happenings in Paris and such. One morning, I made a sarcastic comment about the new dancer who truly jumped around like a frightened rat in rehearsals. I was rewarded with her bell-like laughter before she self-consciously silenced her mirth. Standing behind the mirror, I stared at her in wonder while she blushed demurely. Forgetting myself, I softly whispered, "You have a beautiful, lyrical laugh, my Dear." At this her head came up and she looked partially confused. I was much more careful with my veneration of her after that. It would not do for her to think me a mere mortal.  
  
Tonight would be her debut onstage in 'Hannibal' and I waited for her anxiously. Suddenly, she came into her dressing room and I closed my eyes in relief and smiled. True to habit, she murmured "Angel?" as she lay down her cloak and fluffed her hair in an unconscious, extremely attractive, feminine gesture.  
  
"I am here, Christine." My voice floated in the air around her, caressing her as my hands so longed to do.  
  
Christine smiled tightly and began to wring her hands nervously. Observant of her distress, I asked her tenderly, "What is it, child?"  
  
To my surprise, she burst into sudden tears. Sitting down at her dressing table, she wiped her eyes and apologized. "I am sorry, Angel. But I am so scared. I do not think I can do this." She stared down at her hands looking so forlorn that I wished I could rush into the room and take her in my arms.  
  
Thinking how I could best soothe her stage fright, I reminded her gently "My Dear, you have practiced the role many times here in this dressing room. You will exceed all expectations. Do you think I would allow you to take the stage if you were not yet ready?"  
  
Looking up trembling, she smiled slightly and sighed. "No. No, you would not. I am sorry, Angel. I do not doubt you. I only doubt myself." So softly I had to strain to hear her, she whispered "I hope I do not fail you."  
  
Prior to this moment, I'd thought it impossible to love her more. My heart aching with love, I assured her "You will not fail me, Christine. You will triumph. I am certain of it." I continued silently in my mind to say the words I so wanted to speak 'You have been so dedicated. I love you so very much.' Instead, I found myself leaning up against the mirror with both hands trying to get as physically close to her as possible.  
  
She wiped her tears away and looked up with more confidence than she felt. "Yes, I trust you."  
  
Unable to speak, I simply overflowed with love for her. 'Oh, Christine!', I thought desperately while closing my eyes against the unexpected pain.  
  
Christine stood bravely and smoothed her dress. "Shall we begin, Maestro?"  
  
Jolted from my reverie, I answered, "No, my Dear. Today you shall rest your voice for the performance this evening. I'd like for you to lie on the divan to quiet your voice and your mind. You must prepare yourself."  
  
She looked around in engaging confusion. God, I had completely lost my heart to her. "We will not practice today?"  
  
My smile was evident in my voice. "No, not today, child. It is just as important for you to learn when to rest your voice as when to practice. This task will require as much, if not more, discipline from you. I believe it will be rather difficult for you to relax your body and mind but it is quite essential. Do not fear. I will be with you before, during and after your performance. You will astound Paris, Christine.  
  
Tremulously, she smiled in acknowledgment. Sitting back on the divan, she asked with childlike fear "You won't leave me, will you?"  
  
Answering her honestly, I whole-heartedly promised, "I will never leave you, Christine. Never. Not unless you wish it."  
  
"That is not likely, my Angel." She lay back against the divan, closing her eyes and unknowingly, smiled like a seductress. In her innocence, she had no idea how alluring she was. I watched over her the remainder of the afternoon while she slept until it was time for her to prepare for the performance. Blowing her a silent kiss, I retreated to Box Five.  
  
Christine had been studying the part for two months and I knew she would make a sensation. The entire audience had risen to their feet in praise of her when she took the first of many bows. She was superb and I'd never been more proud in my entire life. So astounded was I that I could not even join in the enthusiastic applause. I merely sat and stared at her, buried in flowers on the stage, while I cried silent, loving tears. Eventually, after her final bow and when most of the patrons were gone, I made my way to her dressing room to congratulate her. It was a good thing that I knew the route by memory, since I was quite overcome. As I stole behind her mirror, she was talking with Meg and her dresser. After they left, I watched as she brushed her luxurious curls at her dressing table. Slowly, she set the brush down and whispered "Angel?"  
  
About to answer her, I was rudely interrupted by a loud, obnoxious knock at her door. Waltzing in with shocking familiarity was a young, blonde boy with a bottle of champagne under one arm. I was quite prepared to open the mirror and defend Christine against this arrogant intruder, if need be. How dare he! Finally, it became clear that Christine and this boy had been childhood acquaintances. He presumed upon her to escort her to dinner which she very wisely refused. The audacity of this fashion-obsessed, young nobleman stunned me into an action I'd only dreamt of but never thought of seriously attempted. When he finally left Christine alone again, I began to sing to her utilizing every hypnotic nuance and vocal persuasion I'd ever learned. The need to keep her to myself - all to myself - would not be ignored anymore.  
  
Her body stood from her chair as a rudimentary, instinctual awareness grew within her. When she turned to look towards my voice, her expression revealed dazed, rapturous recognition. With shaking hands, I opened the mirror and she slowly came to me. My breath halted as I offered her my trembling hand, all the while continuing to sing to her.  
  
When I first touched her skin, my hand tingled with electricity and my soul indelibly became hers.  
  
I wove the musical enchantment around the both of us as we stood close to each other for the first time. The moment transcended normal human comprehension and time stood still as we gazed upon one another. I could not speak for Christine, but for me, it was as though my entire life had been orchestrated to bring me to that precise second. Her beauty was amplified ten-fold as I finally adored at her up close. Leading her down towards my lair, I kept surrounding her with the warm power of my voice, even as my legs felt weak beneath me. 


	9. Exposed

She was held an exquisite prisoner by a composition written after I became her Angel of Music. Never before had a song flowed so effortlessly from my hands - she was my Muse, my heartbeat, my very life. Our extraordinary bond was as intricately bound to me as my own breath. Words paled in the depth of my love for her. So I gave her the most beautiful part of me - my voice and my music.  
  
I sang to her of the beauty of the night and the glorious possibilities we two could share - if only she would open her mind and soul to me.  
  
As I had once dreamt, I made sweet, musical love to her - watching in rapture as she leaned her head back in ecstasy as I gently and tenderly touched her with my song.  
  
Her evident pleasure in my voice was a drug and I was hopelessly addicted.  
  
Daring to bring her here to my lair, I gazed at her with spellbound adoration. I risked touching the outline of her hair, her shoulder, scarcely believing that she was here. "She was here!" my heart resonated triumphantly. Christine was breathing the same air as myself and looking at me in awe, if not in love. I was drunk on her presence; sweetly intoxicated with her nearness. Her loveliness brought me closer to physical ecstasy than I ever thought believable.  
  
Circling her stealthily, my movements were fluid and almost beyond my command. She and I were in an intimate dance with both of us held captive by the other. It was difficult to know who was the more entranced.  
  
As I sang to her, we would look intensely into each other's eyes while my song caressed her. Now, this moment, as I held her spellbound with my voice, I could freely express my devotion. Not knowing if this would be my only opportunity to declare my feelings, I seized it.  
  
As the circle closed, I was physically nearer to her than I had ever been. Stalking her cautiously, I found myself standing before her. My voice soared in a turbulent crescendo and at the pinnacle of my worshipful song - I boldly gathered her in my arms. When Christine automatically rested her head upon me, I nearly wept with the sweetness of it. My voice drifted into delicate lullaby as I held her until there was nothing but the sound of our breathing. Not having experience in matters of love, I did my best to control the hard pounding of my heart lest it wake her. I lifted her in my arms and went to the divan, cradling her. For hours I held her while both of us were in another reality where nothing existed except each other.  
  
Regretfully, I knew I must lay her down to sleep. She stirred when I stood and lifted her in my arms. As I began to hum the lullaby again, with a soft sigh, she fell back asleep while I watched her in pure love. I gloried in the feeling of her in my arms as I carried her to the spare room and laid her gingerly on the bed. Covering her, I gazed at her unbelievingly. The nagging thought came that I would have explanations to make when she awoke, but was quickly dismissed. I was too high on the wings of emotion to consider sordid truth. Taking advantage of her unconsciousness, I permitted my eyes to move down her lovely figure for just a moment. Oh, she was so beautiful! Backing carefully away from her, I silently closed the door, resting my head against it with a smile on my face. I could think of nothing beautiful enough to follow what we had just shared except music. Anything else would be sacrilegious.  
  
Dazed, I went to my pipe organ to give myself over to my overflowing passion for Christine. Playing the song I had sung for her was the only way to hold this sensation for just a little bit longer.  
  
As I tried in vain to express the dazzling feelings swirling in my heart, I totally immersed myself in the effort. Unknown to me, she had crept behind me silently. For a split second, I felt the cold air hit my face as she ripped off my mask. When I automatically turned, her face displayed the sickening horror and shock of my entire lifetime. I was completely grief- stricken that Christine would now never be free from the memory of the unbelievably frightening visage before her. The rage at this knowledge rendered me temporarily mad and I do not recall much following the fierce cry of rage I emitted. The blur of fiery hostility began to clear when I found myself across the room from her, sobbing and on my knees. Christine lay crumpled upon the floor with my mask near her hand. Cautiously, I started to crawl piteously across the floor, keeping my left hand over the ruined side of my face in order to spare her further. I begged her to see beyond the monstrous face to the living, breathing man who loved her past reason.  
  
Closer to her now, Christine looked at me through her tears with her hair hanging in her face. Once more, I was so close to her divine beauty. Undone and ashamed, I broke down wishing I could dissolve into the floor and disappear. I perceived her moving and glanced gingerly upwards. She bewildered me by holding out my mask in a trembling hand. Her compassionate offer seared my soul as I tentatively took it and quickly put it on. Somewhat composed enough to look at her, I hesitatingly looked into her face. We were both overwhelmed by emotional turmoil. My shaking arm moved up to brush her hair away from her tear-stained cheeks. We stared into each other's eyes for several minutes as silent messages were transmitted between us.  
  
Exhausted, I finally forced myself to my feet and held out my hand to her. I stood uncertain, not sure if she would even take it now that she had seen me. Christine looked up at me sorrowfully but she moved to her knees. Keeping my gaze, she doubtfully took my hand and I found I could not even breathe as I helped her to her feet. We said nothing to each other. I slowly led her back towards her room. I leaned against the doorway, whispering softly "You should sleep now, my Dear. You will be entirely safe from me, I assure you. In the morning, I'll return you to your home." Not able to bring myself to look at her and see her revulsion, I kept my eyes closed.  
  
I heard her murmur in perplexity, "But....."  
  
My eyes opened but I did not look towards her. I stared across the room blindly. Anywhere but at her. "Yes, my Dear?"  
  
So softly I could barely hear her, Christine choked, "I...I'm sorry." Then, she began to cry.  
  
Hating myself more than I ever had before, I took her hand in mine, but still did not look upon her face. I had no idea what to say at such a moment. Her dreams and ideals had been shattered and I had violated her precious innocence. Even though I knew it had been beyond my power to resist her, I regretted the anguish I caused her. Taking a deep breath, I managed, "No, Christine. It is I who am sorry." Having nothing to lose now, I finally looked her in the face. Her tearful expression of misery undid me as a tear slipped unbidden behind my mask. Slowly, so she could move away if she chose, I stood in front of her with my hands upon her upper arms. Gently, I gathered her in a tender embrace as I wet the top of her hair with my own teardrops. Her shoulders began to shake as she released the emotion within her. Helpless to alleviate her distress, I simply held her.  
  
After a time, her shudders ceased. I lifted her chin and wiped the tears from her eyes with my hands. Then, I took both of her hands in mine and walked backwards into the bedroom. "Come, my Dear. You are exhausted." Between her successful performance and the shock she'd just endured, she was overcome. She followed mutely and I pulled back the covers motioning for her to get in bed. Obediently, she lay on her side with her hands under her cheek as I covered her delicately. I did not utter a word as I adjusted her lamp to a lower intensity. Closing her door, I heard her speak. "Angel?"  
  
Immediately, I opened the door again, my heart in my throat and answered breathlessly, "Yes, my Dear?"  
  
She had leaned up upon her arm and looked at me for several endless moments. "Good night."  
  
My heart breaking with disappointment and delight, I whispered, "Bonne nuit, ma cherie." I slowly closed her door for the second time that evening. 


	10. Changes

When Christine awoke the next morning, I had already been up for several hours. I'd heard her moving about her room and stood before the fireplace not knowing what to do next. Completely at a loss, I struggled for something, anything, to say to her. When I heard her door open, I shut my eyes and waited for the inevitable confrontation. She came behind me to sit as quietly as possible upon the divan. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face her. Our eyes met and held. I sensed she had no idea how to initiate this conversation either, so, with a sigh, I began. I told her my name, how long I had lived under the Opera and spoke briefly about my past. In the most casual terms I could use, I explained how I had heard her sing that day when I was in Box Five. She listened intently but did not move or say a word. Finally, I told her how I had heard her wish for an angel to instruct her. Thus, my deception was laid bare awaiting her justified anger. My heart felt as though it had been spilled onto the floor. Weary from the explanation, I sank into my armchair and stared at the flames sightlessly.  
  
Christine drew a shuddering breath but was silent. I expected some reaction - any reaction. Curiosity getting the better of me, I looked tiredly towards her. She had said nothing but was watching me uncomfortably. Condemned, I gazed guiltily back at her. She stood up cautiously and took three steps towards me as my breath caught. Very, very slowly, she lowered herself to my footstool and leaned against my legs with her face towards the fire.  
  
Her sweet, inarticulate forgiveness cauterized the wound that occurred when she had ripped off my mask the previous evening. I dimly perceived that we both had actions to be ashamed of, though I was aware that my transgressions were more serious than a girl's natural inquisitiveness. We stared into the fire together as an hour, then another, passed; both of us absorbing the impact upon our relationship. Mindful of her comfort, I ultimately asked her if she were hungry. Giving me her perfectly sculptured profile, she nodded. I made to stand and fix her something but she was on her feet already. She looked down at me and said her first words of the day, "No, Erik. I will do it. You stay here and I'll bring you something."  
  
When I was certain she had left the room, I doubled over in the pain of it and cried quietly.  
  
The day passed less stressfully after my confession. Christine plied me with questions about my home and where I had obtained my vast musical knowledge. Her questions probably kept both of us from dwelling upon the traumatic events of the day before. I showed her around my home and she was fascinated by all that she saw. Back in the drawing room, I heaped coals upon the fire while she gazed at the books lining the shelves.  
  
"Have you read all of these, Erik?" My heart fluttered ridiculously each time she said my name.  
  
"Yes, most of them." I replied guardedly.  
  
Christine turned to me with undisguised envy. "How intelligent you must be........you are so talented and knowledgeable. I feel quite inadequate." Folding her arms about her, she resumed her perusal as I stared at her. She felt inadequate with ME? Looking back into the flames, I thought how ironic it was.  
  
I rose before the fireplace and uncertainly inquired, "Shall we have your lesson today, my Dear, or are you quite fatigued?  
  
Facing me again, she continued to hug herself but smiled for the first time that day. "No, I should like to practice very much."  
  
Relieved, I stretched my arms and hands before me. "Well, what shall we work on today?" I wished to leave the decision up to her as I did not know her state of mind. I did not want to pressure her unnecessarily. The only reason I even brought up having her practice was because it was familiar and comfortable for both of us.  
  
Shrugging, she moved to stand next to the organ. Rubbing her hands delicately upon the surface, she whispered "Erik, thank you for all the beautiful things in my room. And these dresses. I don't own any that are so fine."  
  
I nodded and pretended to leaf through sheets of music merely for something to do. Choosing a innocuous melody, I began to play softly, glancing at her. She appeared deep in thought and I felt it best not to interrupt. I continued to play as it comforted my soul and I hoped it would soothe her as well. After I had played yet another melody, she began to sing softly as I smiled my encouragement. God, I loved the sound of her voice! Closing my eyes, I immersed myself in her singing. Unconsciously, I began to sing the verses with her and our voices blended in such sweet perfection that it brought tears to my eyes. Keeping my eyes shut in shame at my weakness, Christine seemed to gain confidence in the aria. I continued to sing along with her but only to abet her beautiful voice. Keeping my eyes upon the keyboard, I blinked back the threatening tears so that I might be able to look upon her. When I raised my head, I was not prepared for what I saw.  
  
Christine stood beside the organ with her head back slightly, posture perfect and her mouth opened in song. Tears streamed down her lovely face and her eyes were closed. Almost ceasing to play, I regained control quickly. What was she thinking? Was she frightened? Braving another glance at her, I found her looking at me and singing the lyrics I had taught her months before. My eyes could not pull away from hers and as she sang, she slowly moved to stand closer to me.  
  
My heart tripped within me at her nearness and I had to force my vision to the keyboard again. We finished the aria together flawlessly and my hands left the keyboard to rest in my lap. The sudden silence penetrated with a significant meaning that, in my confusion, I could not understand. Taking a deep breath, I felt bold enough to look up to her again. She stood with her eyes shut but I noticed she was trembling. What could I have done to distress her so?  
  
"Christine, my Dear. Have I done something to upset you?", I inquired as tenderly as I could.  
  
Opening her eyes and keeping my gaze, she shook her head slightly. She and I stared at each other in silence for several minutes before she finally said, "No. No, I believe I am just tired." Her eyes looked away. Deliberately, I did not remind her that she had just told me she was not fatigued.  
  
I smiled obligingly and suggested, "Perhaps you would like to lie down then. I will not play while you rest."  
  
Nodding absently, she turned and paced sluggishly toward her room. With her back to me, I watched her retreat with the intensity of a predator. How much I would give to know what was in her mind at that moment. 


	11. Illumination

I paced back and forth impatiently behind her mirror. She was late! This was the second time this week and I knew the cause only too well. It was that confounded boy. Cursing to myself, I furiously glanced again into her dressing room. Damn it!  
  
Pacing angrily, I knew I should chastise her for her disobedience. I hated to do so because I was well aware that her damn young admirer was the cause. All at once, she rushed into her dressing room. No sooner had the door slammed shut than she looked toward the mirror guiltily and murmured, "Angel? I am so sorry that I am late. Please do not be angry."  
  
My heart clutched in my chest as my hands clutched into fists. She continued to call me her 'Angel' and each time she did, it twisted my insides. Why did that wretched boy have to bother with Christine? Wouldn't his noble family disown him were he to........to marry her? I closed my eyes against the wave of nausea that followed such a thought.  
  
I must stop this association with her suitor now, before I was forced to kill him. In a icy tone, I replied, "Yes. I have been waiting, Christine."  
  
She started and looked so convicted that my fears were immediately confirmed. "I......I am sorry." she stammered.  
  
Turning the mirror on its pivot, I stood before her a menacing dark cloud with my arms folded inside my cloak. "Did I not make it clear when we began your instruction that you were to focus completely on your lessons?"  
  
Christine swallowed hard. "Yes, you did, Erik. I apologize. Truly, I did try to get away....." her voice faltered.  
  
Imperiously, I reminded her "You were not to have any diversions....any 'social' entanglements. Who is this boy, Christine?"  
  
For a moment, I thought she might faint as she looked up. Apparently, she had not thought me aware of their association. Her hand went over her heart as though to calm it. "HHe is an......old ffamily friend. I knew him from....my childhood."  
  
"So he presumes to escort you about now that you are grown woman? Perhaps my confidence in you was misplaced. Perhaps we should end these lessons now so that you may pursue other...... amusements?" I arched a brow. "I should hate to get in the way of your attachments." My voice was colder than I had ever used with her before. I was wretchedly miserable and this farce was becoming too woven in deceit.  
  
At my words, she looked panic-stricken. "No. No!" she stared up at me wildly. "I will stop seeing him. I swear! I will tell him this evening."  
  
For a fleeting moment, I closed my eyes and wished I had not woven this web of duplicity around us. Despite my thoughts, when I opened my eyes and beheld the only woman I would ever love, I pushed all such honorable introspection from my mind. I would do anything to possess her......absolutely anything.  
  
Turning from her, I sighed in spiritless depletion and walked slowly towards the dark, cold corridor. Feeling like a wounded mole, I only wanted to get back to my lair.  
  
Behind me, I heard Christine ask fretfully, "Erik? Where are you going?" Pausing, I wondered briefly why it would matter to her.  
  
"I am going home, Christine." I replied, finding myself unexpectedly exhausted. 'Just let me leave', I thought wearily.  
  
"But......what about.....my lesson?" she asked timidly.  
  
Turning, I found her directly behind me and I gazed down at her. "No. Not today. You will rest your voice." Smiling faintly, I moved away again and was shocked at her insistent arm that restrained me.  
  
"No! Erik.....please. Don't go. Won't you at least just.......remain for a little while?" Her voice pleaded with me and my confusion must have shown in my expression. She WANTED me to stay?!  
  
"Please......Erik........don't leave." Her eyes filled with tears and I resigned myself that I would not be leaving anytime soon. Her tears undid me and I exhaled loudly as I moved to face her.  
  
Folding my arms under my cloak and feigning indifference, I sighed, "What shall we do then?"  
  
Christine smiled bravely at me through her tears and I had a sudden, almost irrepressible urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. "Why don't we go to the rooftop again? You seemed to enjoy that before....."  
  
I was so fatigued from my emotion that for a moment I almost declined. My heart upbraided me silently, 'Fool! She is initiating contact with you. GO!'. Nodding to her, I entered the corridor, turned and offered her my hand. Swiftly, she grabbed her cloak as though she thought I meant to disappear. Taking my hand, she stepped through the mirror and I closed it.  
  
We were both quiet on the long trek up to the roof of the Opera. Both of us lost in our thoughts. Myself, I was reflecting on the absolute fruitlessness of my obsession with Christine. My hold on her was rapidly diminishing and I knew that she would soon have to choose. I did not need to be reminded of what the inevitable choice would be.  
  
As we reached the rooftop, I opened the latch and the door swung open. The startled doves flew off voicing their displeasure noisily at our intrusion. It was a beautiful morning. I came up here quite often, unbeknownst to Christine. Here, and only here, high above the curious eyes of Paris, could I relax in the outdoors. Long ago, I had placed an ornate wrought iron bench here and I sat on it now heavily. I watched Christine, who had her back to me, as she gazed out over the city in the sunshine. 'She belongs here. Outside with the sun, the flowers and fresh air.' I thought morosely. The knowledge adding to my already depressing outlook, I removed my hat and leaned against the stone behind me. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment's respite from the unrelenting torment of loving Christine.  
  
"You belong here........outside with the sun and fresh air, Erik." I'd not realized she had moved so close to me and opened my eyes to see her standing straight in front of me. Absolutely astounded by what she said, I could only look at her like a mute idiot. She had repeated what I had just thought about her, almost verbatim. I was amazed and sat speechless, drowning in her beautiful blue eyes.  
  
Christine tilted her head and studied me in the sunshine. I was most uncomfortable with her regard, but I could not move or speak. Finally, shaking myself out of my shock, I smiled faintly, "I was just thinking the exact same thing about you, my Christine."  
  
She smiled happily and sat lightly next to me. "Well, then. We belong here together." She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sunshine like a glorious sunflower. Watching her raptly, I was rocked to the core with her words - 'we belong here......together'. Whatever could she be thinking? Ripping my gaze from her perfect profile, I looked blindly out at the towers of the city.  
  
"We both are quite alone in the world, aren't we, Erik?" I faced her sharply and wondered about this sudden change in her. What was she after? Staring at her warily, I answered "Yes, I suppose we are."  
  
Nodding, still looking upwards towards the sunshine, she said nothing but then proceeded to astound me even further. Without looking at me, she reached out and took my hand in hers entwining our fingers. Staring down in disbelief at our joined hands - jolted by the sheer 'rightness' of our hands together - I immediately stood. Shaking visibly, I placed my hat on my head and walked towards the edge of the rooftop.  
  
"Erik???" Like a morbidly curious child, she followed me. "Erik, did I do something to upset you?"  
  
My arms were folded under my cloak giving me the appearance of an old, irascible crow. "No." I answered tightly, hoping she would take the hint.  
  
Never one for hints, she replied tremulously, "But, Erik....."  
  
"Enough!" I yelled and held up my hand to silence her. Rounding on her, I advanced towards her threateningly. As she walked backwards, I kept progressing towards her. "Christine. You must STOP torturing me. I am merely a man and if you continue to tease and taunt me, I cannot be responsible for my actions." I spat at her through gritted teeth and did not realize my hands were in fists against the agonizing pain.  
  
Having backed her up against a concrete wall, she stared at me in fright. She tried to speak but only stammered, "Erik....I........I am....." Disgusted with myself for scaring her, I went to the door and whispered chillingly, "Let us go." Not looking at her, I waited for her to approach me. When she did not, I looked in irritation back to her. Christine stood leaning against the wall and sobbing. Good Lord.  
  
Returning to her side and showing admirable patience, I said as softly as I could, "Christine, child. I am sorry if I frightened you. Please forgive me. You are an innocent girl and have no idea the effect you have on me. It will not happen again."  
  
She wiped her eyes with her hands and looked at me in confusion. "Erik........I.......I don't know what to do. I feel something for you but I am not certain what it is."  
  
My heart began to race and adrenaline surged through my veins. Stifling the hope rising inside me, I placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "Yes?"  
  
By that time, she had looked away and began to unwittingly wring her hands. It was annoying habit that I had been trying to break her of for some time and I took both her hands in mine. I had performed this gesture before in an effort to stop her and always received a guilty, small smile from her. Now, we both stood in the sunshine staring at our joined hands again. The moment was fraught with significant tension and I knew that this might be my only chance to declare myself.  
  
Still looking at our hands, I rasped hoarsely, "I love you, Christine." Having not the courage to glance up into her eyes, I concentrated on our hands.  
  
The only response I received was a slight squeeze of her tiny hands in mine. Swallowing hard, I mustered up the bravery to glimpse up at her face. Her eyes were shut and tears were streaming down her cheeks. For several minutes, we were silent, holding hands and absorbing this unexpected revelation. Finally, she turned her head and breathed deeply. Gazing up at her again, I waited in suspended, patient suffering for her to reply.  
  
Eventually, Christine looked back at me and I saw immediately that something had changed in her eyes. A knowledge or awareness, I could not tell in my agitated frame of mind. Instinctively, I knew that I should not press her for to do so would cause her to retreat from me. She smiled, kissed the back of my hand and walked towards the door. I followed in a confusion suffused with obscene hope.  
  
For if she could return my affection, the anguish would be worth the wait. 


	12. First Kiss

After I made my rooftop confession to Christine, I did my best to behave normally towards her. Yet, both of us sensed the change in our relationship. In an unspoken, tacit agreement not to mention it, we purposefully avoided the topic. An irreversible turn had been made in the sunshine and neither of us knew where it would lead.  
  
Her lessons continued as usual and she was approaching the summer break when the Opera company would not be performing. I do not know whether she continued to see de Chagny or not. However, she was never late for a lesson again. Indeed, she seemed to have refocused renewed diligence in practice.  
  
During her long breaks, Christine usually would stay with me below the Opera. I refused to entertain the ridiculous thought that she would wished to be in my company. It was merely that her own flat was too lonely with all the time on her hands. It was amusing to watch her bustle about cleaning and arranging items 'just so'. I'd never been fussed over in my entire life and found, much to my consternation, that I enjoyed it. The days were filled with reading, singing together and I was in the process of teaching her how to play chess. Occasionally, we would walk the streets of Paris in the evenings after dark.  
  
One evening, Christine was feeling tired early and told me she was going to sleep. I rose from my chair where I'd been reading and kissed her hand affectionately. After Christine retired to her room, I went to the large divan and stretched out upon it. Seeing this as an invitation, Ayesha appeared and jumped upon my belly demanding to be stroked. Staring at the flames, I rubbed gently along her arched back. I must have lain there for some time because the next thing I was cognizant of was a shadow before the fire. Somewhat startled, I sleepily recognized it as Christine and relaxed my shoulders back down. Her face was dimly lit by the fire behind her and she looked down at me with an unreadable expression.  
  
"I suppose we were both tired." I quipped wryly. Ayesha had curled contentedly atop me and one of my arms was flung over my head. Self- conscious, I lowered my arm to my side and tried to rouse the cat. I was very glad I had not removed my mask earlier.  
  
Christine said wonderingly, "I did not know you had a cat." She reached out a hand to pet Ayesha who immediately hissed in a defensive posture. Pulling back her hand quickly, Christine whispered, "Oh! I'm sorry."  
  
I sat up and deposited the cat on the floor and she promptly scampered away. "Take no notice of her, Christine. She is just unused to another person's presence here."  
  
Christine still looked down to me with her head tilted. Her hair hung over one shoulder of her nightgown and, quite automatically, my hand reached up to lightly touch the air around her curls. She completely shocked me by taking my large hand in her tiny one. Kneeling down in front of me, she looked up even as her hand trembled in mine. Very quietly, she asked, "Have you always been alone, Erik?"  
  
Unprepared for this question, I hid my emotion behind a mask of indifference. Shrugging, I said, "Yes, I suppose." Yet, my actions belied my unconcern as I looked down at her hand in mine and lightly squeezed it. Why had she initiated physical contact between us - especially after our encounter on the rooftop? And why was my heart hammering in my chest? Trying to escape these conflicting feelings, I let go of her hand. Inanely, frantic for something to say, I asked "Are you thirsty? Is that why you could not sleep?"  
  
Christine withdrew her hand and shook her head. Why was she staring at me?! My voice trembled as I whispered, "Christine, I.........." We gazed upon one another, both of us in a quandary. Seemingly of its own volition, with no conscious effort on my part, my body leaned towards her and my lips chastely met hers. It was no more than a mere second or two, but the dizzying contact seared my very soul. My first kiss. In my entire life. Sitting back, I stared at her - shocked at my audacity. As I began to apologize, her hand went to my lips to silence me. I again took her hand in my own as she lowered it from my lips.  
  
Looking at me with wide eyes, she breathed in a quivering whisper that was almost a question. "Let me kiss you, Erik."  
  
My mind shut down at that point and I was most grateful I was sitting down. My knees would have certainly given out beneath me had I been standing. I watched in stupefied fascination as she leaned towards me, closed her eyes and kissed my lips. My own eyes shut down in divine bliss and I felt my heart leap out of my chest and rocket to the heavens.  
  
Wishing I could end my life right then and there, I whimpered softly when her lips left mine. Opening my eyes slowly to behold her in front of me, I trembled and realized I was gripping her hand most tightly. "Oh, Christine! I'm sorry, Dearest! Did I hurt you?" Automatically, I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed it as though I could kiss away any pain. At the look in her luminous eyes, my mouth stilled upon the back of her hand. Our eyes locked together and, as though in slow motion, I carefully placed her hand on my lap. Placing both of my shaking hands on her shoulders, I lifted the masses of curls from her neck, tilted my head and brought our mouths together again. 'Oh, Christine!!!!!!' my heart pounded and my body shivered at the intimacy with her. As I tentatively deepened our kiss, a heretofore unknown masculine pleasure rose in me as she wrapped her arms around my neck. If I were dreaming, I did not wish to EVER awaken. Oh, the taste of her! She was the sweetest, warmest ambrosia and I tasted of her kiss as though it were life-giving. One of my hands slipped down her nightgown to rest at the small of her back. I gently pulled her closer to me, somehow needing more contact with her. A tear slipped from my eyes at the sweetness of her willing, gentle embrace. My mind whirled with the sensations and the closeness of her. I had never, in all my life, been so physically close to a person. It was exquisitely exhilarating and I wanted nothing more than to stay within the circle of her arms forever.  
  
Christine responded to my boldness with an intoxicating combination of shyness and enthusiasm. After many minutes, I became aware that my kiss was turning passionately voracious and I pulled back breathlessly. Not looking at her, I turned my masked cheek towards her so she would not see my emotion. I did not wish to frighten her with the intensity of my ardor as my chest rose and fell while I tried to breathe. I felt her soft, small hand at my chin, turning my face back towards her.  
  
Her eyes glowed with a strange depth and she whispered in a small voice "Erik......I cannot kiss you with this in the way. Will you take off your mask?"  
  
My head came up sharply and I rasped, "NO!" as I turned to away from her. Surprisingly, she took me by the shoulders and made me face her. I again gave her my masked cheek and shut my eyes against the pain. For those brief moments, I had experienced what it felt like to be a normal man. Now, in a sordid rush, it came back to me that I was not and never would be.  
  
Christine shook me lightly and whispered insistently, "Erik, look at me!" Knowing the only way I could loosen her grip from me would be to physically push her aside, I slumped in defeat. My frightened eyes met hers and I felt like a injured animal caught in a trap.  
  
She took my face in both of her hands and I involuntarily winced at the contact. Determined, she continued, "Erik, please. You must trust me. Won't you please?"  
  
How badly I wanted to push her away! Push her away to run and never stop!  
  
Yet, a quiet voice inside made its way through my tattered soul and halted me from retreating from her persistence. Although I was most inadequate in matters of the heart, I knew that she needed me to trust her - now. At this moment. I knew it was a test that I must pass. How could she make a choice between myself and that damned boy if I could not trust her? The insistent voice assured me that, if I refused her now, all was lost.  
  
Desperate, hopeful and scared to death, I sat straight up and met her eyes once more. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Nothing, just allow me to remove your mask." Again. Unintentionally, I shuddered at the memory of the last time she took off my mask. Christine must have remembered as well because she sat before me patiently and allowed the initial fear to subside.  
  
Imploringly, I asked her, "Perhaps I should take it off........I....do not.....wish to frighten you." In truth, I was merely stalling for time, hoping she would lose heart.  
  
She shook her head and stared at me with huge blue eyes. Piercing through my trepidation came the thought that this required great courage from her. And still, she persisted.  
  
Christine looked as though she were approaching a ferocious, deadly bear as she cautiously brought her hands up to the ties of my mask. The tension between us was well-nigh tangible. As though I were made of glass, she painstakingly untied my mask and when it was loosened, she held it in place and gazed into my eyes. Her vision never once left my eyes as she removed the mask. When she did, I lost whatever bravado I possessed and closed my eyes cowardly. I did not wish to see the revulsion on her face. She must have gazed at me for many long moments because the next thing I was cognizant of was her lips pressed softly to my own.  
  
A thousand emotions swirled inside me like a torrential storm. Hope, love, joy, fear, shock, anxiety, awe and so many more that I could not contain it. My arms wrapped around her possessively and one of my hands went to the back of her head. At the same exact moment, both of our lips parted. Her precious kiss sent tiny electric shocks through various pulse points in my body. Kissing her as though I would die without her, I noted with surprise that she held me just as firmly against her. Daring to open my eyes while we kissed, I looked at her closed eyes in amazement. I was unmasked and Christine was in my arms, kissing me. A sob escaped my throat but she took no notice.  
  
After a few moments, she gently broke our kiss and we continued to hold each other as we recovered. My breathing was ragged and I knew I could not stand up. Her head rested against my shoulder as I lightly ran a hand over her curls again and again. My own faint mind and body refused to calm and I was a bundle of nerves. Christine was trembling as I held her but I did not need to ask why. I gathered her onto my lap and held her head against my shoulder. She did not look to me but I was intuitively aware that she was crying. My hand went up to her cheek and I gently brushed away her tears while she huddled against me. Unbidden, I began to hum a lullaby to her and knew she smiled against my chest. Humming the melody to her until I felt her body relax, I gazed down letting her head fall tenderly against my arm.  
  
Christine's lovely face was streaked with tears but she slept peacefully. What had just happened? What would the morrow bring? For hours, I sat and stared in veneration at her beauty while she slept. As I tried to understand what we had shared and what her intentions were, she rested oblivious in my arms. Eventually, I carefully stood and lifted her easily. Delicately, I laid her down to sleep on the bed where I had been born. I watched in thrilled adoration as she turned and huddled into a ball. "Sleep well, my Love." I whispered softly as I left her. 


	13. Confirmation

After I tenderly put Christine to bed, I returned to the divan where I had so recently held her while she'd slept. Collapsing onto it gratefully, I smiled broadly into the flames. My first kiss! Christine had given me my first kiss and the sensations were acutely exquisite. Unmasked and ridiculously thrilled, I stared into the fire for hours. Sleep was an impossibility. In awestruck wonder, I lifted my shaking fingertips to my mouth. My eyes closed as I relived Christine's intoxicating kiss and to my dismay, I found the memory just couldn't compare to her warm, soft lips on mine.  
  
As though she sensed my infidelity, Ayesha studiously ignored me as I sat trying to absorb the entire experience. It was a futile effort on my part because I was much too electrified to think clearly. All I could do as I sat there for half the night was to smile idiotically and feel as though my heart would burst.  
  
Eventually, I forced myself to return to relax against the divan and I closed my eyes. Just for a minute.  
  
I awoke the next morning and groggily looked about in confusion. Why had I fallen asleep here? In a warm, delicious rush, the entire evening came back to my sluggish senses and I sighed in gratification. Standing and stretching luxuriously, I picked up my mask and went to my bedroom to bathe and dress.  
  
As I finished dressing, I nervously speculated how one is expected to behave after their first kiss. Although it was quite laughable at my age, I had no idea how to approach Christine this morning. Deciding to keep our relationship as normal as possible, I adjusted my waistcoat, took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and left my room. Striding purposefully towards the kitchen, I came face to face with her. Apparently, she'd just bathed as well because the scent of her damp, fragrant hair was invigorating. Intelligently, I cleared my throat and murmured "Christine....." Quickly busying myself to cover my discomfiture, Christine whispered "Good morning, Erik." My heart beat wildly in my chest and I severely tried to answer in a normal voice, "Did you sleep well, Christine?"  
  
Glancing at her, she leaned casually against the counter with a steaming cup in both hands. Her eyes were brutally honest and she smiled shyly "No....not very." Then, she blushed and turned from me and I thought I would devour her whole. Like an idiot, I could not even answer as I prepared a light breakfast for her. I do not believe I had ever been so grateful for my mask in my entire life.  
  
As though nothing were amiss and I kissed her every night of my life, Christine sat down at the mahogany table and asked, "What shall we do today, Erik?" I could not answer her because I did not trust my voice and nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders. The next thing I felt was her hand lightly on my arm and I froze in fright. I was certain I had done something wrong. "Erik......." she paused and I stood completely petrified as she continued in a gentle voice, "I don't believe I can eat all of that......" Quickly turning to face her in puzzlement and ready to question her, I noticed that I had piled an enormous amount of croissants and pastries onto an already overflowing plate. Biting my lip and wishing the floor would swallow me and my embarrassment, I muttered pointlessly, "No, I suppose not." Immediately, I began to remove the mountain of pastries trying desperately to think of something to say. Christine had mercifully moved away at that point and forcing my face into an expression of studied calm, I went to place the plate on the table before her. I refused to meet her eyes and went to make myself some tea.  
  
Good God! I had to think of SOME damn thing to say! My mind seized on her previous question gratefully, "Would you like to do anything in particular today, Christine?" By then, I had gained enough of a tentative control over my raging emotions to look at her. Chewing, she appeared to be thinking and I stayed in the kitchen as far away from her as I could. Watching her vigilantly, she finally turned to look directly at me.  
  
"Well, we really should practice today. I do need to work on the duet some more." Taking a sip of her tea, she looked down into it sadly and whispered, "And I must go home for awhile today."  
  
My head shot up in alarm. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that THIS was her home, but I refrained. "Oh?" I inquired while raising a brow and remaining completely still. "Is there something you need from there, Christine?"  
  
Her face turned toward me and her expression registered surprise. "Well.....yes. Rehearsals begin again in a few days and I have been away for some time." She smiled hesitantly, "I cannot continue to take such advantage of your hospitality."  
  
My heart fell and to cover my irrational grief that she was leaving, I poured myself some more tea. I didn't have confidence enough to speak to her at this point. She was leaving me. She was leaving me. Somehow, after what we shared together last night, it seemed an affront. Perhaps I had repulsed her. I had not known what to expect from Christine, but her immediate leaving-taking was definitely not it. Obviously, our kiss had touched me much deeper than it had her. My face froze into a cold expression and I questioned frigidly "When would you like to leave?" I sensed her stand but absolutely declined to look towards her. Christine stood at my side and I perceived her unease but I did nothing to alleviate it.  
  
"Erik, I cannot continue to stay with you indefinitely. It would not be proper." She faltered and continued "I will still see you every day."  
  
Turning from her abruptly, I answered haughtily, "You are quite right. And I have several projects I must complete without distractions."  
  
Christine sighed sadly behind me and I cared not that I had categorized her as a 'distraction'. How could she leave? Now?! Unbidden, my mind went instantly to that damned boy and I illogically convinced myself that he was the reason. Not thinking plainly and needing to distance myself from her, I brushed past her and ignored her pleading hand.  
  
Following me, Christine implored me from behind "Erik, is there something I did wrong? Did I displease you with my brazenness last evening?" Her candid question stopped me in my tracks and I stood with my hands clenched. Taking a deep breath, I turned around slowly and regarded her.  
  
"Do you really believe you displeased me, Christine?" I fixed her with an encompassing stare and when she could not answer me, I continued softly. "What displeases me is that you find it necessary to rush away." If she wanted truthfulness, by God, she would have it!  
  
Her lucent eyes glinted in the candlelight and she gripped one of the dining chairs with both hands. "Erik...what happened last night was........" Her pause resulted in my slow death as I waited in agony for her to continue. "....extraordinary." Lowering her lashes, she had begun to wring her hands again nervously and, remembering, put them behind her back. "Truthfully......I am unsure how to conduct myself now and I thought it would be best if I left for awhile." Licking her lips, she braved a look at me and even in the dim light, I could see her cheeks were crimson. "I do not wish to make you feel awkward with my discomfiture and I will stay if I do not make you uncomfortable." Blushingly, she looked down at the table with a sudden, consuming interest.  
  
Once again, I stood completely immobile and ensnared by her feminine modesty. Feeling like a fool for reacting so harshly, I regarded her intensely. I resisted the urge to bridge the distance between us and take her in my arms. Mildly, trying to apologize for my earlier rudeness, I answered "You do not make me feel awkward, my Dear. I am sorry if I hurt you earlier."  
  
Christine shook her head but still did not meet my eyes. Suddenly, I had to see what she was hiding and walked towards her. Taking her chin gently in my hand, I raised her face and gazed at her expression. Her brilliant blue eyes met mine and I watched, utterly captivated, as her gaze moved down to my lips. Inhaling sharply, I stared as she looked back into my eyes again guiltily. Did she wish to kiss me again?! Certain I was misreading the look in her eyes, I lowered my hand and took hers. "Whatever you decide to do is fine with me, ma Cherie'."  
  
Nodding, she withdrew her hand and went towards her bedroom as I attempted to breathe. Christine paused at the threshold with her hand on the door and looked back at me with a tiny smile, "I will stay." Gently, she closed the door to dress and I immediately had to sit in one of the chairs as my knees went weak in relief. 


	14. Decision

The next few days were busily occupied with practice since the Opera company would be resuming rehearsals soon. As usual, when Christine began her vocal exercises each day, I would stand close by with a critical eye to identify any flaws in her delivery. Up until now, I'd dispassionately place my hands on her shoulders to gently correct her posture, or place my fingers upon her abdomen to adjust her presentation.  
  
Now, after the shift in our personal relationship, I found myself re- evaluating my every movement. Whereas before, I wouldn't hesitate to adjust her posture, now I noticed I was timid to touch her. My firm resolve to teach her properly banished such cowardice and I would force myself to focus solely on her instruction. Oddly, Christine seemed to experience the same awkwardness and several times, she became flustered when I would correct her physical stance. At times, I would stop playing at the organ in the middle of a difficult aria and approach her to improve her position. The blush which crept upon her cheeks at such times filled me with a heretofore unknown masculine delight that she could possibly be shaken by my nearness.  
  
I accompanied Christine to her flat to retrieve some items she told me she needed. She adamantly refused to allow me to purchase anything she desired. Not wishing to compromise her reputation, I waited in the carriage while she went inside alone. After locking the door, she returned with an armload of items. Bashfully, she said softly, "These are a few things I need but I shall return later for the rest." Storing her belongings on the floor of the carriage, I wondered wide-eyed how many personal effects a young woman required. Smiling dubiously, I remained silent since I had virtually no knowledge of such matters.  
  
The day rehearsals were to begin, I awoke early and built a fire in the fireplace. After assembling a light breakfast for Christine, I began to wonder at her continued absence. Had she overslept? Unsure, I stood before her bedroom door deciding if I should knock. Just as I had put my hand up to knock lightly on her door, she opened it and saw me standing there. After she gasped in surprise at my unexpected presence at her door, we both laughed impulsively at each other's sudden appearance. Smiling down at her, I explained. "I was beginning to think you had overslept and did not wish for you to be late."  
  
Christine blushed becomingly and looked down at the floor between us. When she raised her sparkling eyes to mine again, I found her utterly irresistible. Putting a hand on her shoulder, I placed a light, chaste kiss on her forehead. Christine looked up at me with gentle surprise and took my hand as she walked to the kitchen. Pleased, I was deluged with wonder and questioned to myself if this is what it was like to awaken with one's wife. As we entered the kitchen, she dropped my hand and began to add lemon to her tea. Looking sideways at me, she inquired, "Did you sleep well, Erik?"  
  
The sheer normality of such an intimate conversation struck me speechless as I gazed down to her. Swallowing hard, I answered, "Very well. And you, Christine?"  
  
She turned to me comfortably. "No, I didn't. I'm rather nervous about beginning rehearsals again." Taking a sip of tea, she confided softly "I don't feel as confident without you there."  
  
Thrilled with her disclosure, I smiled and assured her, "I am always at your rehearsals, Christine. Even though you can't see me, I am there." Suddenly, I remembered that I had promised the exact same vow when she had only known me as her Angel of Music. Apparently, she recalled as well and her eyes lifted as she smiled demurely. At a loss for words, I boldly took her hand and kissed the back of it as silent messages were mutely transmitted between us. Freeing her hand, I turned to leave to get my cloak and she touched my arm, halting me. With an endearingly trusting expression, she said, "I am so glad you're always there for me, Erik." Placing my hand over hers and giving it a small squeeze, I had to leave before I kissed her.  
  
Later, as I opened the pivot to the large mirror in her dressing room, I busied myself by lighting a small candelabra on her dressing table. Christine appeared nervous and, although she did not wring her hands, she bit her lip in apprehension. Finished with my task, I turned towards her and took both of her hands.  
  
"Christine.....do not worry so. You are progressing well and if you were not ready, I would tell you. You do trust me, don't you?" I smiled.  
  
Tensely, she nodded and answered with an assurance she did not feel. "Yes, I do trust you, Erik. I am just concerned about disappointing you."  
  
Taking her chin in my hand, I met her eyes for a long moment before responding. "You never disappoint me, my Sweet. In any way." Her luminous, huge blue eyes beckoned me invitingly . In response, I tilted my head and slowly pressed my lips to hers. Oh, how I had missed her kiss! It was as though once I had tasted of her, I could not get enough. Yet, I did not wish to overwhelm her with any amorous advances and I shouldn't have kissed her now. Pulling away slowly, I opened my eyes but kept my hand on her chin.  
  
Tremulously, she smiled and gripped my hand tightly in both of her tiny ones. Then, she completely startled me as she cuddled against my shirtfront and whispered "Hold me, please." Willingly, my arms immediately complied and I closed my eyes in rapturous bliss. Sighing in contentment against her hair, I felt as though I could hold her that way through all eternity. However, I went rigid at the sound of footsteps in the hallway and placed my hands on her shoulders.  
  
Without a word, I conveyed my silent encouragement to her and she nodded as though she understood. Stepping through the mirror, I looked back at her and she asked doubtfully, "You will be here after rehearsals, Erik?"  
  
Smiling, I held the lantern and quipped, "Before, during and after, ma Cherie." With that, I left her to make my way to Box Five while pondering her abrupt insecurity. What was the unforeseen fear that drove her distress? Thinking about this in depth, I could not determine the cause.  
  
Rehearsal began eventually after the formidable Madame Giry had all the chorus girls in hand. Christine's part in the production was a leading role but La Carlotta had been given the starring role. Rolling my eyes at her piercing rendition, I resisted the urge to cover my ears and remained concentrated entirely on Christine. Mentally, I would quietly instruct her from my seat in Box Five and I made note of her few mistakes to work on with her afterward.  
  
As rehearsal broke up at mid-day, I stretched tall behind the curtain and made to leave Box Five. As I glanced towards Christine, I was arrested by the sight of that accursed Vicomte speaking to her as she left the stage. A possessive, violent rage gripped me and I had to restrain myself from immediately leaping out of Box Five and strangling the life out of him. Why would he not leave Christine alone?! In the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question. For exactly the same reason why I would not leave her alone - he loved her.  
  
My breathing was labored as I peered out and saw him charmingly kiss her hand. I would KILL him! My hands clenched and I watched closely for Christine's reaction. She looked about wildly as though she somehow sensed my silent, horrible fury. Pulling her hand away from his grasp, her gaze practically met mine although I knew she could not see me in the dark shadows. Slipping further into the recesses of Box Five, but not so far that I could not see her, I observed with a sinking dread that she was flustered. Blushing furiously, Christine did not meet the damn boy's eyes but glanced up to him shyly. He must have asked her to dine with him because she shook her head vehemently and again, looked about her. Apologetically, Christine began to make a rushed explanation as she slipped away with Meg. I saw her glimpse towards Box Five with a naked fear in her expression. Abruptly, the murderous anger left me and I leaned against the wall in sudden weakness. For several minutes, I stayed that way with my eyes shut tight against the pain. I realized dimly that it was completely silent and peered out of the box cautiously. Only the Vicomte and I were left in the theatre. He was sitting in the front row, resting his chin on his fist and staring absently at the stage. In a blinding clarity that broke my heart, I knew what I must do. 


	15. Proposal

With a heavy heart, I descended the stairs and made my way towards Christine's dressing room. This unbearable situation must be resolved. As I attempted to plan what to say to her and how to phrase it, I found I could not express myself in coherent thoughts. Only flashes of emotion, love and pain tore disjointedly through my weary mind. What I wished to do was to march into the auditorium, grab de Chagny by the neck and send him straight to Hell. Yet such an action would alienate myself from Christine forever and nothing was worth that price.  
  
Upon reaching the mirror, I observed Christine seated on the divan and chatting with Meg who was making to leave. As though she sensed my unseen presence, Christine went to the door and politely saw Meg out. Locking the door and turning towards the mirror, a sober expression shown on her face as though she already was mindful of my conclusive thoughts. I freed the pivot of the mirror and the damp air of the corridor rushed into her dressing room. We regarded each other ambiguously and, in attempt to postpone the inevitable, I praised her. "You did very well at rehearsals today, Christine. Your diligent practice on the first aria has paid off."  
  
Nodding and picking up her cloak, she walked to me slowly as though she were a disobedient child expecting punishment. Wordlessly, I took her cloak from her, fastened it about her neck and secured the mirror. Taking her hand, I led her quietly through the dim, dank corridors towards the lake. Retaining the lantern in front of me, I had no damn idea how to initiate such a discussion. Furious at my ineptitude, I remained silent until I had determined how to proceed.  
  
When we reached the boat on the lake, Christine stunned me by asking bluntly, "Erik, when are we going to talk about it?"  
  
As I turned towards her, my black cloak whirled around me - and it was the only noticeable movement between us. Christine had folded her hands in front of her and was calmly awaiting my answer. Her self-possession unnerved me more than tears would have done, and for a moment, I wanted earnestly to feign ignorance. In the murky light of the lantern, her eyes met mine and I replied flatly, "At home." What I wanted to ask of her could not be executed in the dark, cold corridors beside the lake.  
  
In unspoken agreement, we were both hushed throughout our short journey in the boat, the only sound was the slight parting of the water. Securing the boat and holding out my hand to assist her, we walked hand-in-hand to the house in silence. I entered the house feeling tense and uncertain.  
  
Removing my cloak and hat, I strode into the drawing room to pour a brandy. I knew I would need it. Christine followed docilely and stood in palatable suspense behind me.  
  
Sighing, I set the glass on a table and confronted her. Summoning all my dignity, I demanded point blank. "Christine, are you still seeing.........that boy....socially?"  
  
Her steady gaze never wavered as she shook her head before she explained. "No....no. Not since the evening I last met him after I was late for our rehearsal. I....I have not seen him since then. I told you I would not see him after that."  
  
Relieved, but wanting to hide it, I merely nodded and unconsciously folded my arms defensively in front of me.  
  
Christine fidgeted nervously and continued in a hesitant voice, "Raoul asked me to dinner but I refused."  
  
Nodding again, I then purposely bridged the emotional and physical distance between us. Taking her chin, I gently turned her face upwards. Drowning in her beautiful blue eyes, I was aware with a fierce clarity that I had to let her make this decision on her own. As much as I wanted to, I could not hypnotize, force or coerce her into this choice. I loved her far too much. For I wanted her to return my love of her own volition and nothing less.  
  
"Christine, I do believe that you may need some time to ponder all this. Perhaps.....", I swallowed hard, battling every howling, opposing desire twisting inside me. "Perhaps you should return to your home for a short period of time." Wincing as though I'd been stabbed, I took another painful breath as I intensely watched her reaction to my suggestion.  
  
Taken by surprise, she frowned at me in confusion and took a distraught step backwards. "You....you want me to leave?"  
  
Sighing heavily, I murmured meaningfully, "No, Christine.....I never want you to leave." Unwittingly, my hand reached into my pocket to finger the small item that I had commissioned Jules to purchase months ago. Foolishly, I carried it with me constantly as though it were a talisman against losing my beloved Christine. Knowing that an impasse had been reached, I mustered my ebbing courage and withdrew the small gold ring. Taking her by the hand, I led her to the divan and bade her wordlessly to sit down.  
  
Bending on one knee in front of her, I took both of her hands in mine as my gaze moved back and forth between her eyes, not wanting to miss any nuance in her reaction. "Christine, I have told you that I love you. I hope you'd know that by now. I would be deeply honored........." Without warning, I couldn't speak and stared at the union of our hands trying to grasp the words that flitted cruelly through my mind. So very much was at stake and should Christine immediately refuse me, I was uncertain how I would react. All the beautiful prose or tender words I had intended for this moment hid obscurely from me as I frantically tried to recall them. Finally, after several strained minutes, my eyes bore into hers. I gripped her hands tightly and whispered, "Marry me, Christine."  
  
I saw her blue eyes widen and she gasped at this unexpected declaration. Her lips parted but she did not utter a word. Uncertain, but determined to express myself to her, I lifted her left hand and solemnly slipped the gold band on her ring finger. Bending over to kiss the ring on her hand reverently, I lifted my pleading eyes. Christine continued to gape at the gold ring but had said nothing. Apprehensively, I raked a hand through my hair and faltered, "I am a wealthy man, my Dear, and I could give you the kind of lifestyle you deserve. Whatever you wanted...... We could live where ever you chose, Christine......I.....I do not care as long as I am with you." My trembling hand went to adoringly brush her hair away from her face and, at last, she looked at me. I prayed that somehow she would not be conscious of my internal quaking. "I do not want you to answer me now. I believe you should take time to contemplate such a decision. But I wanted you to know my intentions. If you would grant me the honesty of a considered reply, I would be quite satisfied." Feeling like a babbling fool and convinced she would refuse me, I awaited her answer in agonizing doubtfulness.  
  
Christine's gaze again returned to the tiny gold ring and she lifted a wobbly hand to touch it lightly. In bewildered confusion, she whispered incredulously as though she could not believe it. "You wish to marry me?"  
  
I smiled softly and continued to brush her luxurious curls away from her face. "Yes." I breathed delicately as impetuous hope surged wildly through my blood. "Surely you know how I love you." Alternately captivated and concerned by her mystification, I boldly leaned forward and kissed her lips cautiously. As my lips met hers, I opened my eyes when I tasted tears. Pulling away, I was stunned to see that she was crying. My heart sank and I worriedly wiped her tears away with my hands. Pushing aside my dark conviction that she meant to spurn me, I anxiously questioned, "Christine.....my Darling.....have I upset you so?"  
  
Immediately, she began to shake her head replied weakly, "No....no, Erik. It is just that I am so unworthy of you."  
  
Staring in shocked disbelief, I could not even reply for several long moments. In open-mouthed stupefaction, I gently took her face in my hands and rasped hoarsely, "How....how could you even SAY such a thing?"  
  
Biting her lip, she responded tearfully, "You deserve so much better than a silly girl like me. How could you possibly wish to marry me?" As though she could not face my astonishment, she lowered her vision to the ring again. I truly could not believe what I was hearing. Firmly, I lifted her face and forced her to meet my eyes.  
  
In a stern tone, I whispered, "Christine. Never let me hear you say that again. Do you understand me? Never." My unsteady hands lovingly caressed her beautiful face and to my shame, my voice broke as I choked, "You are everything I have ever wanted, Christine. I knew it the very moment I saw you. And your love is so much more than I deserve. I would do anything for you. Anything in the world. If you would consent to be my......my wife.....I would give you anything your heart desired." My paltry words were woefully inadequate and in an effort to express my devotion, I tilted my head slightly and tenderly placed my lips on hers. As I cautiously deepened our kiss, one of her hands met my unmasked cheek and I melted even further under her touch. Kissing her with all the unfathomable love that I possessed inside for her, I inarticulately begged her to be mine. Christine responded to my kiss with such sweetness that I never wanted to end it. My arms found their way around her as though they naturally belonged there. Not wishing to overwhelm her, I broke our kiss gently and, without another word, lay her head on my shoulder as my hand lightly brushed her curls.  
  
Holding her, I whispered softly into her hair, "This is the reason why I thought you would be able to think clearer at your flat, my Dear. Away from me and any....distractions. Of course, I do not want you to leave and you know you are welcome to stay always." Leaning back and holding both of her hands in mine, my heart raced inside me and I braced myself as best I could. "Well, my Love. What are your thoughts?"  
  
Christine gazed at me for several moments and I resisted the urge to shake her into answering quickly. "Erik....I.....I don't know what to say. I'm so.....overcome." Her eyes filled again with tears as I desperately forced myself to be patient even as her indecision quietly killed me. "You would not mind if I were to....to think on it?" she smiled tremulously.  
  
Hope and defeat fought for control inside me as I replied with a confidence I did not feel. "Of course, my Dear. I am extremely honored that you will consider it." Kissing her forehead, I moved to sit next to her and hesitantly gathered her into my arms. Christine surprised me by sighing in contentment and laying her cheek on my chest. My arms again wrapped around her and I closed my eyes. It was done. There was no turning back. The decision was hers now. 


	16. Revelation

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this Chapter, it became necessary for me to express Christine's point of view. I do believe there will be happy ending, but trouble lies ahead............. 

Perversely, after I had proposed to Christine, I was more aloof towards her than ever before. My very existence depended upon her reply and I was loathe that she should perceive the power she held over me. Although not brusque, my demeanor was indifferent. At least, I hoped it appeared I was unconcerned. Inside I was churning but I used every ounce of my ample self-control to conceal my agitation.  
  
Christine as well seemed most preoccupied and I believe both of us were acutely relieved when rehearsals began once again. As before, we settled into a predictable routine where I would escort her to her dressing room in the mornings and be awaiting her in the afternoons. Almost always, I would take the time to observe at least part of rehearsal and we would work on any difficulties Christine encountered.  
  
I would fluctuate between cool indifference and wanting to shake her and force her to decide immediately. The level of pressure inside me was relentless and sometimes I thought I would go mad. If only I knew what she was thinking.........

Christine  
  
Yawning, I tried to brush my irritating curls into a sleek, straight drape. Admitting defeat, I dropped the silver brush on my dressing table and stared at my riot of long, dark curls. Reaching for my hairpins, the flash of gold on my left hand caught my eye and I gazed at it as though hypnotized. Erik. Erik had asked me to marry him. A shiver went through me, but whether it was elation or terror, I knew not. How many times had that thought given me pause in the past month? Although our relationship had settled back into a familiar pattern after his proposal, I could always sense the underlying strain that, as yet, remained unanswered.  
  
Oh, how to describe the emotions that rocked me when he unexpectedly declared himself! Shock, disbelief, girlish thrill, hope, love and........fear. I had truly been amazed when he asked me and, to my shame, my insecurity broke through. For probably no one knows how intelligent, talented and wise Erik actually is more than myself. Intimidated by his suave sophistication, I would have never visualized being his bride. Yet, I knew without a doubt that he loved me. It was evident in his intense eyes when I would catch him contemplating me with his piercing, searching gaze. At such times, he would quickly turn away and I would see him breathe deeply.  
  
The conflicting emotions tore through me once more as I heard the pipe organ softly begin to play a melody. Smiling, I looked forward to the day. It was Sunday, the Opera was closed and Erik was always filled with intriguing plans for such times. I was well aware that this suspended state of events could not continue for much longer. I must give Erik an answer and both options terrified me.  
  
After bundling up my hair as best I could, I placed a steadying hand on my abdomen and opened the door. Automatically drawn to his side as he wrought such heartbreakingly beautiful music seemingly without effort from the organ, I stood watching him with my hands behind my back. It seemed nearly blasphemous to disturb him although I had a vague notion that he could sense my presence. As though intuiting my thoughts, he stopped playing and turned slightly. A familiar, uncomfortable and simultaneously exhilarating shiver ran through me when his eyes met mine. Like a timorous doe, I hated myself that I could never keep his gaze for long. Even though half of his face was masked, Erik never looked at me with indifference. Shyly walking towards him, I asked gently "What is it you are working on?"  
  
For long, disquieting moments, he merely stared at me while I kept my gaze on his music. Without taking his penetrating eyes from me, he whispered in that velvet voice, "Nothing of import, my Dear." Each time I heard his voice, it was as though the resonance of it cast a spell on my innermost being. I actually felt sorry for the people who would never hear Erik's voice speaking casually, let alone raised in song. For his impeccable, faultless register could move the most callused human being to tears.  
  
Forgetting myself, I looked up at him and I was surprised by an extreme desire to remove his mask. Why I would wish to do so was beyond me but the feeling was so incredibly strong that I could not dismiss it. Perhaps in the back of my mind, I hoped for another of his passionate, searing kisses but I did not stop to analyze it. Abruptly, I asked in a small voice, "Erik.....may I remove your mask?"  
  
His dark eyes widened and I could literally see him shudder at my entreaty. Clearing his throat gently, he gazed at me warily. "Why would you wish to do so, Christine?"  
  
Although I didn't even have an answer for him, I shook my head while keeping his gaze as though captivated. "I...I don't know....." I whispered timidly.  
  
Erik's head tilted curiously and he looked at me for long moments while I gawked at him as though I were an idiot. Taking a deep breath, he turned to me on the bench and took my hands. Immediately, my fingers intertwined with his and I squeezed gently as I attempted to reassure him. "Erik.....I....I won't be frightened." Swallowing hard, I continued and spoke my thoughts aloud. "I just....want to see you."  
  
He inhaled sharply at my words and looked down towards the carpet. Inside my mind, I silently pleaded with him to allow it. Biting my lip, I waited and told myself not to appear disappointed with his inevitable answer. Surely, he would never feel comfortable removing his mask when unnecessary. For a minute, I almost apologized for my request and told him that it was not important but deep inside me, I knew that it was, although I did not know why.  
  
Suddenly, his head shot up and he looked at me with an expression I could not place. Closing his eyes, he nodded briefly with a pained expression.  
  
Feeling as though I emerged triumphant from a hopeless battle, I impulsively kissed the back of each of his hands. His eyes remained closed and his only movement was the rise and fall of his chest.  
  
Carefully, my hands left his and raised to untie his mask. Mentally bracing myself for the sight of his disfigured face, I slowly removed the mask. Holding it in my hands, I looked upon the man whose genius surpassed anyone I had ever known or heard of. His face was so indicative of his life - beauty and ugliness, magnificence and despair. How much he must have suffered in solitary anguish without comfort. A fierce protectiveness clutched me as I indignantly imagined the injustices he'd endured. In blinding clarity, it occurred to me that I loved him. I loved Erik. Gasping at this revelation, Erik misinterpreted my intake of breath to mean that I was shocked by his appearance and turned his head in shame. Dropping the mask heedlessly, I took his face in my hands and ignored his wince. Gently, my fingers touched both his handsome and appalling visage. I loved him. Utterly stunned by this revelation, I involuntarily whispered my thoughts aloud. In an awed whisper, I breathed, "I love you....."  
  
Erik's eyes flew open and he stared at me, slack-jawed and incredulous. Unexpectedly, I smiled back at him with the dawning awareness and whispered it again in wonder. "Erik........I love you!"  
  
Unable to keep the bubbling joy inside me from my expression, I drowned in the exhilaration of knowing that I had, at last, found my home. For so long, since Father had died, I had been without a safe place to land. Frantically, I had searched in vain. Now, there was absolutely no hesitation in my mind. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. For the moment, nothing mattered except that I loved him. Why I'd never comprehended this truth before was inconsequential. Taking his hands again, I looked down shyly as I realized I would be his wife. Without looking at him and uncertain of how to express my aspiration, I asked bashfully "Erik, aren't you going to say anything?" 


	17. Acceptance

After hearing Christine move about in her room, I knew she was awake and I sat down before the massive pipe organ. Playing softly, I selfishly mused that I would have her completely to myself for the entire day. Thinking of possible plans that would please her, I was aware the precise moment when she entered the room without even looking behind me. Sensing her trepidation at interrupting me, I stopped and turned to look upon her. Her glorious brown hair was upswept with several beguiling curls escaping around her graceful neck. Good Lord - she was beautiful. Her simple dress merely added to the allure of her innocent seductiveness and my breath ceased as I gazed upon her.  
  
As she walked cautiously to me and inquired what I was playing, I knew a moment of profound, wistful longing. Staring at her, I had the abrupt thought that if she refused my offer of marriage, I would die without her. How could this young girl know that she held my life in her pretty, little hand? Exhaling sharply and continuing to devour her with my hungry eyes, I answered her inanely. The love I had for her staggered me to the depths of my soul and I literally shivered when her eyes met mine.  
  
When Christine unexpectedly asked to remove my mask, I stared at her for a long time in disbelief. What.....why would she want to unmask me? Posing this question to her, I was hardly reassured by her reply that she did not know. Turning to face her fully, I took her hands in my own and even in my anguish, I reveled in her touch. In the back of my mind, I recalled the last time when she had taken my mask off and allowed me to kiss her. Still, the risk of her revulsion and disgust made me quake before her like a small boy. Gasping at her comment that she merely wished to see me, I suddenly stared down at the carpet at a complete loss. Why, in God's name, would she want to see me? A tumult of appalled thoughts churned through my mind and battled the instincts of an entire lifetime of solitude. What.....what if she needed to see me once more before committing her life to me? Pondering that question, my head lifted and I set my jaw in determination. I would do anything to keep her....anything to win the possibility of her love. Absolutely anything. Nodding once, I again cowardly shut my eyes to avoid seeing her inevitable aversion. Feeling her precious lips upon my hands in silent gratitude, I fought back a vicious wave of panic. Wanting nothing more than to get up and run, I forced myself to remain still and struggled with every innate urge to bolt.  
  
As her fingers gently untied my mask, I broke out in a cold sweat. Surely when Christine's eyes fell once more on my horrible visage, she would need no more convincing. An intuitive sense told me that this cruel moment would somehow be the deciding factor. How I knew this, I cannot say, but I was certain of it. The cool air of the cellars felt foreign on my exposed cheek and I sat there silently dying. Having discarded my morphine into the underground lake the day I asked Christine to be my wife, I frantically thought that if she should leave me now, I would surely lose my thin clutch on sanity.  
  
My ears were scalded with the sickening sound of her quick gasp and, saving the last vestiges of my pride, I turned my unmarred cheek to her. Damn it! I should have known better than to risk it again! My hands clenched into fists and my weak eyes threatened tears. Refusing to blubber like an infant in front of her, I took a deep breath and desperately tried to think of something to say. All I wanted was my mask......to just cover the raw, ugly part of me and spare her the hideousness.  
  
I was aware of her touch upon my cheeks and I winced from the tender contact but did not meet her gaze since tears still burned my eyelids. Taking a shaky breath, I immediately exhaled in a rush of air as my dumbfounded gaze met her awed expression. What did she say? Positive that I had finally lost my mind and I was imagining this surreal moment, I stared at her stupefied. My confusion deepened as she smiled at my unmasked face and breathed "Erik........I love you!" The words swirled through my bewildered mind as I vainly attempted to comprehend her declaration.  
  
Suddenly, as I looked upon at her expression, my dazed memory recalled the evening I had sat in Box Five and observed the young couple in the box across the auditorium. The woman had caressed her lover's handsome face and looked at me the way Christine was looking at me now. Impossible!  
  
My limbs completely limp, she took my hands and held them securely. My heart was racing so fast that I distractedly hoped I would not have a heart attack. Thunderstruck, I slowly lifted my right hand to rub over my heart through my dress shirt. With a maidenly blush, I stared at her as my perplexed brain finally registered that she had asked me a question.  
  
In my utter bafflement, I cleverly croaked, "What?"  
  
Laughing girlishly, Christine nearly jumped in her excitement and I wondered fleetingly if it were she who had lost her mind. Holding my hand to her cheek, her lucid eyes sparkled as she whispered once again, "Erik, I said that I love you. Have.....have I displeased you?"  
  
Looking around for a doubtful moment in extreme astonishment, my eyes met hers again and I almost forgot I wasn't wearing my mask. No one had ever said those words to me in my entire life. Even in my wildest fantasies, I had never expected Christine to actually LOVE me. No, I had hoped that I could persuade her to stay out of affection, perhaps, but never because she really loved me. No one could ever love me. My mother had told me so when I was a child.  
  
A disgusting hope fought its way upward and burst through my amazement. With the patience of a saint, Christine explained with her hands still on my farce of a face, "Erik, I love you. I never realized how much until this very moment. I cannot imagine living without you now." My blurry gaze riveted to her dumbly, she smiled faintly and continued. The indisputable love in her beautiful eyes was almost too much for me to bear but I was paralyzed with shock. Stroking my face lightly, she breathed, "But I do love you.......and I would be......I would be honored to be your wife." Lowering her eyes shyly, she waited and I knew I had to say something, damn it, but I could not make myself function.  
  
With extreme power of will, I raised my heavy arm to put my trembling hand on her cheek. Yes, she was real..... Swallowing hard, I frantically tried to put a suitable thought together but to my shame, my voice squeaked as I asked foolishly, "Does....does this mean you will stay, Christine?"  
  
As though she understood my quandary, a surprising womanly smile of insight beautified her features. Nodding, she closed the gap between us and laid my marred cheek tenderly against her breast. "Yes, my....my Love. I will stay....always."  
  
At her words, I gazed up at her incredulous and her shining eyes confirmed her words. An enormous relief washed over me like a cleansing baptism. Unwilling to have her witness my childish tears, I clutched her tightly about the waist and cried helplessly into her dress. She would stay....she would stay.......was all my foggy mind could comprehend. For many, many long minutes I sobbed quietly against her while her fingers tenderly combed through my hair. Her precious hands in my dark hair were exquisitely comforting and I eventually calmed.  
  
As I blindly searched for a handkerchief in my trousers, Christine understandingly offered to make us some tea and promised to return swiftly. Nodding but not yet able to look at her, I mopped at my face and was grateful for a moment alone to recover. Silently, I admonished myself for my unmanly response. I should have kissed her passionately, as any other man would have done in such a situation! Sickened with my weakness, I reached to pick up my mask when it suddenly hit me. Christine had accepted to be my bride - while I was not masked! Holding the leather mask in my quivering hands, my heart overflowed with an intense joy that I had never known before. Tears filled my eyes once again but I stubbornly wiped at them before quickly replacing my mask. Taking deep breaths, I grappled with this overwhelming miracle as she came back into the drawing room. Setting the tea tray down on an end table, she looked at me compassionately. I had not moved from my bench since she had entered the room and as I made to stand up, she placed a gentle restraining hand on my shoulder. Looking up quizzically, she murmured, "Just a moment."  
  
Christine knelt before me as I stared down at her mutely. Her gaze moved pointedly to my mask but she said nothing. Smiling softly, she leaned up, pursed her lips and closed her eyes. I was irretrievably lost. My arms gripped her roughly and I hauled her up to meet my parted lips. Mine, I thought wildly. She was MINE! A triumphant wave of masculine satisfaction pulled me under as I held my fiance' in my arms. Kissing her with a blazing passion mingled with breathtaking love, my mask impeded our intimate embrace. As I pulled it off with a growl of impatience, her arms flung around my neck and she returned my ardent kiss.  
  
Drowning in her, I abruptly broke our contact and murmured hoarsely before claiming her lips again, "I love you....... Christine, I love you so!" Tasting her tears along with mine, I boldly upturned her chin to my unmasked face and kissed my bride-to-be in genuine reverence.  
  
Nothing would ever part us again. 


	18. Seized

_In the dream, I continue walking recklessly towards the edge of the roof atop the Opera Garnier.  
  
Instead of fearing the dizzying height, I stand steady and tall while gazing down on the hustling Parisian night without trepidation. The apathetic breeze blowing in my hair cannot stir my motionless stance as, like a neglected gargoyle at Notre Dame, I look sightlessly upon humanity. Yes, I have unearthed my destiny. I am a stone gargoyle. For how can I live as a man without my breath? Here I stand, purged of my soul - a phantom of a man, I chuckle wryly - precariously perched atop the spot on Earth where I looked into her eyes and lost myself.  
  
No rational anxiety causes me to step backwards to safety. As I unemotionally decide my fate, whether to live or to die, I suddenly speculate apathetically as to why it has to be one or the other. Inquisitively, I raise my foot and stand with one foot on the rooftop and one in the grave. Inexplicably, I begin to laugh aloud at my unresolved and irresolute life. A decision must be made. So, I make it. Taking a leap of sheer insanity, as well with a tinge of morbid curiosity, I step off of the roof of the Opera. Instantaneously, my breath lodges in my throat and the wind is completely knocked out of me as the vision of the stones rush up to meet me. A second or two before I hit the ground, I foolishly wince as though to avoid smashing against the pavement. To my utter astonishment, all of a sudden, I am lifted.....I'm.........flying! A hot, scorching strength lifts me up into the Darkness and I spread my arms out wide as my veins throb with an evil adrenaline. Up, up, up to where I originally stepped off the Opera Garnier moments before......  
  
While I stand there catching my breath, I look down upon the pavement with a sneering sense of superiority. I have looked death in the face and, seconds before my life was to be shattered from my body, I was saved. A smug haughtiness that I've never felt before grips me with a power I had only dreamed of. My fists clench as I burn for sweet revenge and even the breeze doesn't dare to move me anymore. _

* * *

The past weeks with Christine had been a lovely, surreal dream. Instead of enjoying them to the fullest, an odd premonition had snaked its way into my mind. My experience in life had taught me that when things were going well, I must become wary. The axe was usually poised to drop. So during those euphoric, heavenly days, I continually kept vigil for the inevitable. Brooding silences would descend upon me periodically. I attempted desperately to hide these dark episodes from her. Usually, I did my dismal musing while Christine attended rehearsals since I wanted to be ready for any attack or threat. I'd remain ever vigilant inside my box to watch her and I kept lookout over her zealously. Now that I had Christine, honestly as my own, I would fight any menace to the death. The ferocious protectiveness I had always had regarding her had increased ten fold. My attentive, defensive guard up, I hovered over her like a silent shadow - much as I did after I had first heard her sing on the stage those many months ago. I knew that happiness could not endure for very long when I was involved. This awareness was not tinted with any such weakness such as self-pity. It was simply a fact.  
  
As Christine rehearsed a particularly involved aria, I watched from the shadows of Box 5 with a burgeoning adoration and pride. Oh, she had so improved! My breath became non-existent as she sang the familiar love song with a new sensibility and looked slyly up to where I stood. She was......singing to me! Keeping her eyes on the shadows where she must have known I stood, she walked slowly towards the side of the stage while I gazed on her completely enraptured. Wishing I could step out into the gas light and proudly show everyone who heard her angelic voice that she was singing to me - to her betrothed - my heart beat silent messages of reciprocal love and devotion. My lips parted as I made ready to answer her and into my exquisite reverie bellowed the rude, unrefined lament from Piangi as he made the responsive strain. Wincing in the shadows, I rolled my eyes in distaste and looked back towards Christine. As though sensing my mute revulsion, a slight smile upturned her lips and her eyes danced before she arranged her face once again and turned to her star-crossed, ungainly suitor. Sighing inaudibly, I took my pocket watch from my jacket to see how much longer I would be forced to endure such tribulation. Noticing the time, I replaced the watch when I abruptly remembered and froze. DAMN! I had completely forgotten in my preoccupation with sheltering Christine from some unknown perceived threat. If I wasn't there, he would hunt me down like the cursed plague he was since I had not been in attendance for our appointment the previous month. With a longing look at Christine, I surveyed the auditorium scrupulously. If she would be safe anywhere, it would be here with the company surrounding her as they rehearsed. No one would be allowed to get into the auditorium during a rehearsal. Sighing in irritation and placing my Fedora low on my brow, I resigned myself to having to leave and meet with Nadir. Damn it! With a last look to Christine, I blew her a silent kiss and stealthily exited through the hollowed column in my Box. I would meet her in her dressing room after rehearsals were completed. The moment he saw me in the torch light, his dark, ferret-eyes narrowed meditatively. Exhaling in sincere annoyance, I jeered sarcastically, "Oh, what _now_, Dark Shadow of Gloom?"  
  
Chuckling reluctantly at my dry wit, he kept his eyes on me as I leapt agilely from the bank of the underground lake. In a deceptively casual voice, he called, "It is good to see you, my Illusive Friend. Where were you last month?"  
  
Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I did not answer as I strode past him as if he weren't even there. It was a sort of eccentric ritual that he stood while I sat during my monthly meetings with my self-appointed conscience. Arranging myself as comfortably as I could on the low stone wall, I lifted my long legs to rest upon the wall and crossed my ankles. Glaring at him from underneath the brim of my hat, I replied lightly, "I left you a note."  
  
Nodding, he walked to where I sat and murmured, "Yes, you did. Yes, you did. But it explained nothing. The note merely informed me that you would not be here at the appointed time." Silently leaning against the wall near my feet, he gazed contemplatively at the misty, icy waters of the lake as I waited for the inevitable interrogation. "Where were you, Erik?"  
  
Perversely, I reached over and lightly kicked him with the heel of my boot to shake that smug, knowing demeanor. Having his full attention, I gleefully launched into my explanation, "Well, Nadir. It has been such a long time since I have had the pleasure of torturing some poor soul..........." His wide eyes shot to my shadowed face and I repressed a sinister smile before continuing. I began to describe the hideous and rather imaginative ways that I had supposedly tortured countless hapless Parisians in his absence for the crimes committed against me. His sallow face became red in indignation as I went on without a shred of guilt and quite enjoying myself. As I paused for breath, he sputtered, "Erik! How could you?! You have truly gone mad!"  
  
Undone, I lowered my chin to my chest and gave in to the restrained laughter. Wiping a tear from my unmasked cheek, I gasped, "Oh, God!" Nadir eventually comprehended that I had fabricated the entire heinous plot in my poisoned mind and was none too pleased.  
  
Wiping my hand over my eyes, I continued to chuckle as he righteously upbraided me for playing him for a fool. Giving him a rare, genuine smile, I answered amiably, "You are quite right, Nadir. I should not have teased you."  
  
Instantly observant and wary, he asked cautiously, "You are different, Erik. What has happened to you?"  
  
Sighing in contentment, I proceeded to tell him about Christine miraculously agreeing to be my bride. His shock was apparent but I was too elated inside to care and he plied me with questions for the next hour. When we parted, he wished me well and also requested that I bring Christine with me the following month so he could offer her congratulations. After a brief argument, I agreed in annoyance simply so that I could return to her quickly. Rehearsals had ended minutes ago.  
  
In a light-hearted mood, I rushed towards her dressing room with eagerness to see her again. The corridors smelled damp and were frigid but I smiled in anticipation of looking into her warm eyes. Perhaps I had been mistaken. Perhaps fortune had finally showed mercy on me and she would really be mine.  
  
As I slowed my steps and stole behind her mirror, I noticed in instant alarm that Madame Giry and Meg were speaking in hushed, furtive tones inside her dressing room. Christine was no where to be seen. Heedless of anything but the foreboding churning in my stomach, I swiftly turned the pivot of the large mirror and stood glowering at them. Meg gasped and quickly moved behind her mother as I stared silently at Madame Giry. Tersely, I spat, "Where is she?"  
  
Swallowing hard, Madame Giry patted Meg who whimpered behind her and then burst into tears. Trepidation coiled up my spine as Madame Giry stepped resolutely towards me and whispered in a trembling voice, "She is gone, Monsieur." 


	19. Resolved

As I stoically trailed like a black shadow behind Madame Giry toward where she had last seen Christine, I was somewhat amazed at my inner composure. No fury, wrath, indignation or anguish tightened my stomach muscles. No unyielding band constricted around my heart and left me paralyzed with fear. If anything, the unruffled calm was what concerned me. The only other occasion that I had felt such ruthless, unemotional self-possession was long before in Persia.........after I had killed for the amusement of the Khanum.

The clarity of my reasoning was more unnerving than Meg's agitated barely repressed sobs. Curiously, I observed myself as though outside my body and absently reflected that I should be more upset or distressed. The odd removal of my sensibilities in the face of losing the one person more dear to me than my very life could not be explained. Instead of focusing inquisitively upon this strange phenomenon, my analytical mind raced with all the plausible possibilities.........

Surprisingly, the apprehension that Christine would leave me of her own accord never crossed my mind. For I knew that I would have observed some sort of uneasy or nervous behavior in her demeanor should she be planning such a strategy. No, I theorized, while my hands clenched into fists. Christine _loved_ me. I would cleave to that conviction until it was proved otherwise. Or I would go mad.

Plots with random degrees of sinister schemes were intellectually hypothesized and summarily dismissed as I coldly followed Madame Giry. The only constant theme in all of my distasteful theories revolved around that damn boy......................_de Chagny_. In my heart of hearts, I was convinced he had absconded with my Christine. It was this terrible, unwavering perception that caused me the most trepidation. For I was absolutely and confidently certain I would find her. I would not rest until I did so......but as well, I was sure that I would kill her foolish childhood friend without a thought for such an outrage. No other outcome or possibility was possible. My brow furrowed when I anticipated Christine's reaction........would she ever forgive me for such a deed?

Realizing that Madame Giry had halted and watched me fretfully, I also stopped to determine our location. We were on the stage of the empty auditorium. I stepped out into the darkness and held the lantern I carried aloft.

"She was standing there, Monsieur. Speaking with Meg and one of the other dancers. I only saw her briefly before I went backstage." Madame Giry pointed to the right side of the stage while Meg remained cowering behind her mother.

I strode over to where Madame Giry had indicated and knelt down to look for any trace or suggestion of foul play. Standing, I took the light over to the stairs leading down just adjoining the stage. Nothing. Turning, I faced Madame Giry and I was rather surprised at the removed, composed sounding voice which emitted from my lips. "Who was the last one to see her?"

Madame Giry glanced briefly away while unwittingly putting a protective arm behind her and I understood instantly. Meg knew. She knew where Christine was. Attempting to reign in my desire to shake the information from her sniveling, frightened form, I instead walked evenly to just in front of Madame Giry.

Endeavoring to soften my tone, I addressed the young dancer patiently. "Meg.....you know where Christine is, do you not? Come, Child, tell me. I must know."

Madame Giry stepped aside and nodded once at her timorous daughter. Meg's eyes were as large as saucers as she gazed up at me and trembled. Sniffing, her eyes spilled over with great tears while she nodded frantically. In a shaky whisper, she stuttered, "Yesss....Monsieur. I.......I saw...ttthe llast pperson she sspoke tto."

Instantly, I took a step forward and grasped her arm firmly but gently. "Tell me.", I demanded and resisted the urge to raise my voice.

Meg stared stupidly at my hand on her arm and I immediately dropped my hold on her. Looking up at me with huge eyes, her mouth opened but no words came forth. Madame Giry must have sensed my intense annoyance surge and ordered Meg to speak, and speak quickly. With a distressed glance at her mother, Meg stared down at the flooring and sobbed quietly, "The Vicomte."

Madame Giry gasped audibly before gazing towards me in fear. Obviously and rightfully concerned about the inevitable fate of de Chagny, she put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Meg, are you absolutely certain?" My expression remained frozen as I waited for her daughter to continue.

Meg nodded miserably as she wiped her eyes. "Yes. Yes. He wwas here and aasked to ssppeak with her. I.....I ttold Christine but she became anxious and told me to ttell him no. When I did, hhe became angry and, as Christine saw him become upset, she came over and ttold me she would talk to him." Meg swallowed hard before continuing as she squeezed her mother's hand for support. "I....I was exiting the stage, bbut I looked bback before leaving. They spoke in fervent whispers for many moments until he ssaid something about......about.....a ring. On her finger. He....he led her by the hand saying they must converse privately. Christine....Christine pulled her arm and attempted to break free of his ggrasp but he insisted." Tears welled up again and Meg covered her face with her quivering hands as she sobbed, "I didn't know! I didn't know he would....he would take her! But sshe never ccame bback after tthat!"

Madame Giry embraced her overcome daughter and looked pointedly at me over Meg's head. Our eyes locked while I wrestled with my next course of action as hers pleaded with me to spare Raoul his life. Without a word, I turned on my heel. Madame Giry's steps echoed behind me as she inquired anxiously, "Monsieur, what will you do?"

Pausing briefly, I did not meet her eyes as I snarled over my shoulder, "Whatever I must."

Swiftly riding one of the Opera steeds through the twilight of a blood red sunset, the calm which had possessed me prevailed over the unconditional rage which steamed inside me. I had visited Christine's dressing room to look for possible clues and I was reassured by her handbag still beside her dressing table. Obviously, she had not planned to leave with Raoul. Meg's words comforted me more than I had visibly acknowledged when she relayed how Christine had resisted leaving with that damn boy. The mere thought that he had _forced_ her to leave with him made my blood boil but such distracting emotions were heartlessly put aside. I needed to think clearly if I were to accomplish my pursuit.

Already outside of Paris, I urged my mount towards the de Chagny mansion located on the French countryside. Several months ago, I had followed the accursed boy home to determine where my enemy resided. That had been before Christine had kissed me....... _Christine!_, my heart cried out, but the sorrowful, silent plea was ruthlessly squelched. What if.....what if she did leave of her own accord? What if.........she changed her mind? Willfully, I brutally severed such destructive thoughts as I sped through the countryside. With a cry of rage, I determined I could not, _would not_, allow such weak, shattering pensiveness. For my very life weighed in the balance of such a possible atrocity.

It would do Christine's safety little good if I were to assume such a devastating outcome. I stringently advised myself to concentrate on finding Christine. First and foremost.

The sun had set when I reached the outskirts of the de Chagny estate. The opulent chateau rose from behind the ornate iron gates which were shut and locked. Locked? At such an early hour? A wry smile made my lips upturn as the powerful stallion pranced and snorted. With a challenging smirk towards the chateau, I whispered coldly, "You have sealed your death, de Chagny. No lock in this world could keep me from getting to you now. "

In a grove of trees, I secured my mount to a sturdy tree out of sight. Taking a deep breath, I turned to stealthily tread towards the chateau. There was a large oak tree that had a sturdy limb hanging just over the wall near the house. I had been here before and subsequently determined the quickest way to get inside. My senses attuned to the slightest sound, I silently proceeded until I reached the oak. Nimbly climbing the tree, I lowered my Fedora on my brow and peered over the wall. There was no one in sight but the gas lights were shining from the second floor. I could see no trace of a carriage nor any sign of horse tracks.

Agilely leaping from the 10 foot wall, I remained motionless and crouched low while gazing about me. Discerning that there was no one about, I stood with determination. With a glance up towards the second story, I whispered quietly, "I am here, Christine."


	20. Revealed

_In my madness, I am nearly giddy with the sense of the eventual confrontation that would soon take place. Oh, I would have the revenge I sought.....nothing could stop that now. As I learned from my recurring dream where I leapt from the pinnacle of the Opera Garnier, I am invincible. Hate consumes me like a murderous disease but I will have my final vengeance. No one could ever take Christine from me. She is mine. My blood rushes hotly through my veins in a hot thirst for retribution. How dare he.....how DARE he! Oh, he would pay. Yes, the Devil would die at my hand this night and I would unleash his sinister hold on my Christine forever. I gaze upon the black night with a grim sense of destiny. Tonight would be the point of no return. In my insanity, I chuckle the anticipatory laugh of a warrior going into battle – to kill or be killed._

I struggled against the tightly knotted rope holding my wrists while frantically attempting to appear as though I were not. Glancing furtively at Raoul standing at the open French doors looking out towards the grounds, I knew exactly whom he was waiting for and my heart hammered in my chest. As I listened to his crazed laughter from some unknown thought, I closed my eyes and thought fruitlessly, "Erik, please don't come... Please don't come here!" Yet, my silent pleadings were futile for I knew with my entire being that Erik was already on his way to rescue me from my captor.

Raoul stood as still as a statue carved from stone while I strained with both the physical ropes tying my wrists and the emotional upheaval surging in my heart.

For I was held captive by a man I did not know.

The easy-going boy I had romped with as a young girl and the man I had recognized the night of my debut at the Opera had disappeared. In his place was a fierce-eyed stranger who saw right through me whenever his cold stare happened my way. Anger and anxiety tightened my chest and my bosom heaved with indignant frustration. Glaring at Raoul, I suddenly railed, "What has changed you so?! Why are you being so cruel? _Who are you?!"_

As though he had not heard my irritated questions, he stood with his back to me and did not acknowledge my outburst. Knowing it was pointless, I gave up my struggle to become free and bowed my head in defeat. I gasped in unexpected surprise when a rough hand jerked my chin upwards until I stared into the unfeeling eyes of a stranger. For a brief moment, some emotion flickered in the green depths but I could not ascertain what that emotion might be since it was replaced with a malicious frostiness. An evil smile upturned his lips as Raoul crooned, "Oh, now.....I wonder what could have changed me, my Charming, Reticent Christine?" Appearing contemplative, he gazed upwards towards the ceiling in exaggerated thoughtfulness before sending a look of pure hate towards me. "Who am I? Why.....I am _your_ creation, my Love." Finding this amusing, he began to cackle insanely while I stared at him wild-eyed and experienced a surge of real fear. What would he do with me? What would he do to Erik? As though on cue, in my peripheral vision, I thought I saw a shadow of black shift in the darkness of the balcony and my startled gaze flew to the open doors. Closing my eyes in a silent prayer, I hoped to God that it would not be my Betrothed, yet, I knew that was as likely as Raoul suddenly seeing reason and allowing me to go. Oh, God! What would Erik do to Raoul when he saw that I was bound?! Swallowing my tears, I tried another tactic. "Raoul......listen to me. If Erik finds me here like this....he....he will kill you. Please....please let me go and I swear to God that I will never tell him what happened this night!"

Having taken a step from me, Raoul slowly turned towards me to stare at me as though incredulous. Gazing at me in disbelief, he raised a hand to touch one of my disheveled curls in a negligent manner. Parrot-like, he repeated tonelessly, "He will kill me..........." Abruptly, he fisted his cruel hand in my hair and jerked it back harshly. Bringing his face close to mine, he whispered, "Oh, Christine.... What a child you are! Don't you understand that you are merely a means to an end? What else could possibly lure him here but his poor Christine in dire peril?" Returning his gaze, I was suddenly weary of being used as a pawn in deadly games of cat and mouse. I saw Raoul's eyes drop to my parted lips for an instant, a cold fear that he would kiss me while Erik watched froze my blood. Keeping my hair in a brutal grip that hurt my scalp, I whispered tremblingly with pleading eyes, "Let me go....." Shaking his head slowly, his gaze never left mine as he decreed without emotion. "No."

Abruptly, his head turned towards the balcony although there was no noise and only the breeze rippled the curtains. Without warning, Raoul drew a small, sharp dagger as my eyes widened in fear and my breath stilled in my throat. Standing to his full height, he came to stand behind my chair with the knife poised at my throat and his hand still tugging my head back. "Show yourself or I swear to God, I will kill her, Erik."

My chest heaving with labored breaths, I began to shake uncontrollably as I stared crazily towards the darkness. Unable to speak, I gasped as Erik slowly emerged from the shadows of the balcony.

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Spying from the shadow of the balcony when his hand touched her, it instantly snapped my unflinching logical comportment. My blood began to boil as I saw his hand upon Christine and I very nearly lost my composure with a desire to charge towards him. Hiding in the darkness of the balcony, I observed stealthily for several minutes in order to determine that damn boy's frame of mind. Having heard his deranged ramblings, I was somewhat concerned to realize that he had lost his mind. From his harsh words to Christine, I realized that he was actually waiting for me and almost chuckled at his naiveté .

Yet, I experienced the first, genuine sharp stab of fear when he called out to me and held the knife to Christine's neck. Dear God! Swallowing my anger, I realized that I could never put her life in jeopardy – no matter the cost to myself.Regardless of the outcome, his life was over but I could not allow him to harm Christine in the process. Enraged, I calculated coldly that he would not live after this night for this outrage. Stepping slowly from the darkness, I separated from the shadows and stood completely still as I stared him directly in the eyes. Without speaking and without looking at Christine, I leveled my gaze at him as he began to gradually smile.

Tilting his head curiously, he stared at my masked face and hissed, "The Phantom shows himself at last." All of my senses heightened, I stood ready for any attack but uncertain as how best to protect Christine. For I all to clearly saw the maddened gleam in Raoul's green eyes and I was instinctively aware that he would not negotiate. Maddened by his advantage, I could not look directly at Christine and stared piercingly into his eyes.

Gazing down at Christine, he smiled politely and suggested, "Christine, do tell your fiancé how thrilled we are to see him!" When she did not answer, his expression turned incensed and he abruptly looked up at me. Using all my powers of control, I attempted to keep my outward demeanor calm and folded my arms in front of me as though somewhat bored with this game. Raoul stared at me for several long minutes and then, as though in a trance, moved his dagger to the right side of Christine's face. Caressing her cheek with the flat of the blade, he whispered ominously, "Since you both are of one heart, perhaps we should match your faces as well." His eyes flew up to meet mine as his lip twitched in amusement. Smiling even broader, he demanded of me, "Take off your mask, Devil."

Panic pounded through my veins as I looked into Christine's eyes for the first time. The complete fear in them made me frantic to free her but I knew I must act carefully. Her expression pleaded with me not to give in to Raoul's orders and I debated quickly. My steady hand lifted as I removed my Fedora and Christine choked, "Erik, don't!" Shedding my mask, I dropped it carelessly to the stone floor and watched the familiar look of astonishment followed by revulsion flitter over Raoul's face.

Inhaling sharply, he was smart enough not to look down at Christine as he questioned her breathlessly, "Christine......how could you....how could you agree to wed....." My vision became blurry with rage and only the razor sharp knife at Christine's cheek held me in check. This was no time to give in to my emotion since I needed to think clearly.

A small sob from Christine made my gaze dart to hers as she began to cry and Raoul loosened his hold on her but kept the knife on her cheek. Brokenly, she began to sob, "He fforced me, Raoul! He ssaid he would kkill you so I agreed to mmarry him!"

As both Raoul and I gazed at Christine in stunned astonishment, she did not meet my eyes and suddenly I knew. I knew beyond a doubt that she was giving a desperate performance for my sake. Swallowing hard, I carefully watched the damned boy for any sign of softening or a lowering of his blade. Silently, I encouraged her to continue and hoped to God he would believe her.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she implored him, "Please, Raoul! You know you are the only one who has ever had my heart. I.....I love you!" Keeping my sharp, intense gaze on his reaction, my heart leapt with hope as he slowly lowered the knife and released her hair. The blade was still at her neck however and Iwas certain that if I moved at the wrong time, he would slice her skin.

"Christine....", he whispered in shocked amazement as his eyes wandered from me to her intermittently. Stifling a sob, she breathed brokenly, "If you ddon't believe me....look at my necklace. I....I am wearing your ring next to my heart."

A quick flash of outrage widened my eyes as he carefully lifted her necklace while keeping the knife at her throat. It was difficult to determine who was more dumbfounded - Raoul or myself. Instantly, I decided how I would proceed....


	21. Denouement

_Raoul:_

_Staring into Christine's pleading gaze as tears poured down her face onto the blade, I held the ring I had given to her in my hand. Not sufficiently convinced to remove the knife from her throat, it remained unmoving beside her jumping pulse. Blinking, I gazed between her and Erik since I was unable to speak in the face of such an unexpected revelation. She wore my ring! Her distressed expression was completely convincing as my heart leapt that with the knowledge that she still loved me. She loved me! I had been victorious! Mere seconds had passed but, realizing I must not keep my eyes from the demon for long, I began to slowly smile as I saw incredulity spread across his repulsively deformed face. His mismatched eyes stared at Christine and he seemed to stumble slightly in shock. In a disbelieving whisper, he faltered, "You...you lied to me? Christine, you lied to me?" Suspiciously watching both of them, I glanced furtively down to see Christine's expression become one of indignant anger. Her tearful eyes burned with an acute hate that I would have thought her incapable of and she seemed relieved to speak the truth as she spat, "Yes! Yes, I lied to you! Do you think that I would allow you to kill him because I would not stay with you! I would risk living with the devil himself and even marrying him if it saved Raoul!" Beginning to weep, she lowered her head somewhat and sobbed, "I would do anything for him..." Lifting her chin, she glared resentfully at Erik and parried her final blow, "Even pretend to love you!"_

_Some of my vengeful hate was mollified at the monster's apparently heartrending reaction. Seeming to crumble under the weight of such knowledge, he began to breathe heavily and his hand lifted to absently rub his chest over his heart. His tearful eyes wide with astounded anguish, he repeated dumbly as though it was the only phrase he knew, "Christine, you lied to me?" As I watched his grief-stricken response to Christine's pronouncement, I released the ring that I held in my hand. The effect of her loathing seemed to crush him visibly and every fiber of my body tensed in readiness as he lowered to his knees on the floor. As though dazed, he lifted his mask with shaking hands to cover the right side of his ghastly face before he gradually stood to his full, imposing height. Although he was trembling, his expression was one of stiff abhorrence as he glowered at Christine and me. _

_Waving his hand in dismissal, he glowered stormily at me and steadily announced with unleashed antagonism, "Take her. Do with her what you wish. I'll not risk my life for her crocodile tears." Effectively dismissing both of us, he turned his back and strode towards the balcony. I was so thunderstruck that I lowered the blade from Christine's neck and took a step towards him as I brandished the dagger. Taken aback at this unexpected turn of events, I ordered roughly, "Stay where you are, Devil. Don't even attempt to flee!"_

Erik:

The sentiment I had just expressed in our anxious drama had me quaking in genuine fear. Having seen her pleading eyes as she spit out such vicious hatred towards me, I found I did not even care if she was telling the truth. I only knew that I had to get her to safety. After turning my back and seeming to leave Christine in his hands, I anxiously hoped that he would be persuaded my frantic performance of sorrow. Anticipating that my ploy would be realistic enough, a thrill of victory surged inside me as I instinctively sensed that he had moved away from her when I heard his voice closer to me. Swiftly, I whirled around with a carnal roar. Grabbing the hand that held the dagger, the Vicomte suddenly began to attempt to wrestle it free with both of his hands. Twisting my hand and bending his arm, I effectively broke his wrist and he fell to the floor with a cry of pain. Bending, I picked up the dagger and slipped it into one of my leather boots. Without losing a moment, I calmly stepped on his throat and removed the Punjab lasso from my cloak. Coldly flicking the noose about his neck, I was shaking now from the most intense rage I had ever known. Having never felt such fear since my childhood as Christine's life was threatened, the emotion easily evolved into cold, murderous fury. His hands automatically flew to the rope about his neck as he made pathetic choking sounds. Methodically, I tied his broken wrist to his other hand with a string of rope hidden in my cloak. It was actually quite effortless to restrain him since he whimpered like a child from the fractured bone. Once more, I became frightfully emotionless and all I could see in my warped mind was that damn knife at Christine's throat. _How dare he!_ Purposefully, I moved my boot to his chest and was ready to choke the life from the bastard when I heard the only sound that could have penetrated my bloodthirsty consciousness - a small sob.

My dark eyes furtively darting to the direction from whence the noise came from, I suddenly became aware of Christine still tied to the chair with her head bowed. Streams of tears fell silently down her cheeks and off of her lowered chin. Suddenly, I knew that I could not kill him in front of her... I could never expose that cold, lethal facet of my personality to her. Frustrated in my impotent fury, I kept the noose loose enough around his neck so that he would live but tight enough to keep him immobilized. Gazing down at him dispassionately, I promised in a chilly whisper, "It will take merely a flip of my wrist to break your worthless neck. Don't tempt me, Chagny." His eyes widening in unfeigned terror, I kept the rope taut as I slowly walked backwards to the chair where Christine was bound. Upon reaching her, I wrapped the cord around my wrist and my eyes never left the trembling boy trembling on the expensive Oriental carpet. Retrieving the dagger from my boot, my glance fell to the ropes which tied her arms to the chair and with a one swift slash, I freed her. Tugging slightly, I tightened the noose around the Vicomte's useless neck. In my peripheral vision, I was aware of Christine rubbing her wrists but I dared not look away from that backstabbing coward.

Revenge coursing through my veins, I managed to order curtly, "Go out into the hall, Christine."

Tearfully, she whispered, "No, Erik..."

Turning my head to her in surprise, it happened so fast that I could not react in time. The door burst open and the police filed in. Seeing a wild-eyed masked man with a rope around the bound Vicomte's neck and a crying woman, they came to the conclusion any rational man would. Before I could move, I heard a loud crack and felt a searing heat tear through my chest. In slow motion, I fell to my knees and another shot was fired into my side. Covering the wound with my hand in stupid, futile attempt to halt the flow of blood, I collapsed to the floor as darkness enshrouded my world and a sinister chill took hold of my ebbing life. I heard as though in the distance Christine's hysterical screaming and I endeavored ineffectually to tell Christine that I loved her before death took me. Succumbing to the breathtaking pain, I lost consciousness as I felt her arms supporting me around my neck. Obscurely, I thought, "_I love you, Christine_"...


	22. Consequence

Christine:

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One moment, I was opening my mouth to ask Erik to spare Raoul's life, and the next I was on the floor holding Erik's head in my lap. Sobbing frantically, I gazed into his pain-filled eyes and as he tried to speak, I covered his lips with my fingertips and choked, "No, don't speak, my Darling. I won't leave you... I love you. I love you..." As he closed his eyes and seemed to go limp in my arms, my grief turned to wide-eyed shock as I stared at him. There was a flurry of activity all around me but I was conscious of nothing but Erik's seemingly long, lifeless body in my arms. A determined hand shook my shoulder but I could not tear my eyes from the stream of blood seeping from my Erik's side. The hand shook me insistently and I heard as though from a dream, "Christine! Christine! Let me see him!" Slowly turning my head, I viewed Madame Giry's concerned expression and blinked without comprehension. One of the armed guards knelt beside me to assess Erik's wounds and I heard Raoul's shaky voice accusing Erik of attempting to kidnap me after breaking into his chateau. A fierce rage unlike any that I had ever known before swept through me and after carefully laying Erik's head upon the cloak which Madame Giry had balled up as a makeshift pillow, I stood and flew wildly at Raoul. With my nails and fists, I clawed and beat at him like a crazy woman. As strong arms restrained me, through my angry tears, I relayed to the confused police chief what had really happened. Raoul had come to me after rehearsals after receiving a note from me some days ago that I wished to see him briefly. It had been my intent to return the ring that he had given to me long before I had become engaged to Erik. Not wishing for Erik to notice the ring as he accompanied me to rehearsals that morning, I wore it on a long necklace with my crucifix hidden under my gown. I explained fervently that Erik had been the one to save me after Raoul seemed to go mad from my calm explanation that I could not marry him but I hoped we could be friends. Panting and desperately looking over at Erik, the guard restraining me allowed me to shake his arms loose as I pointed to Erik's unmoving form. "_He_ saved me from this madman. The Vicomte has lost his mind.", I declared as I glared hatefully at Raoul. In a pleasingly ironic twist of fate, Raoul stared at me and whispered the precise same words that Erik had uttered in our impulsive drama, "Christine...you lied to me?" Without answering him, I roughly pulled the golden chain around my neck hard, breaking it. Removing his gaudy ring from the chain, I barely restrained myself from spitting at his feet as I tossed the ring to him with a glare of contempt before returning my attention back to Erik.

Raoul proceeded to exhibit his insanity by releasing a roar of infuriated rage and reaching out both of his hands as though to strangle me. As he spit a storm of curses at me, it took five policemen to pin him down and handcuff him. Had he not been brought under control, I believe he would have killed me without a thought.

Madame Giry looked up in alarm as I fell to my knees and she whispered, "I have had one of the policemen go for a doctor immediately. It...it is my fault, you see.

She nodded to the captain and turned to face me with an almost apologetic expression. "I knew that there could be no other outcome. It was only my intent to stop him from killing the Vicomte and seeing his wrath extinguish the one bright flame of hope for his future. He loves you so, my Dear... Tears filled her normally-stoic eyes as she explained in a hushed whisper, "When Erik learned you were taken, I'd never seen such controlled fury and it frightened me. I knew what he would do for he loves you beyond reason. So, I hastened to contact the police and told them that you were missing and the last person you were seen with was the Vicomte." Falling silent, she looked back down at Erik as she applied pressure to his wound with her own gown and warned softly, "He has lost much blood, my Dear." Nodding in understanding, I leaned forward to kiss his cold, unmasked cheek and murmured tearfully in his ear, "I love you, Angel. Don't leave me now. I love you. Please hold on."

Erik:

The dream came flooding back to me time after time – alternating between lucid vividness and distancing to a faraway quality. Both Nadir and Christine were there...again...beckoning me from the riverside. Caught in the swirling tide of the river of blood, I was powerless to fight its strength and looked towards both of them powerlessly. Longing only to surrender to its prevailing might, I knew that if I capitulated to its insistent pull that I would be parted from my Beloved. Turning my head and gazing at her longingly, I called out, "Christine! Christine!" Instantly, she began treading the vigorous current and heading towards me. Oscillating between gratitude and concern for her safety, my arms reached out blindly in her direction before darkness overtook me once more.

Yet, that was not the worst nightmare I had during that endless, sinister gloom. In another dream, I saw Christine tied and bound to a chair and the Vicomte standing behind her with the knife poised at her cheek. Panic stricken, I was unable to move my limbs to save her. No matter how much I focused my intense concentration, I could not move and sobbed at my helplessness. "Chrriissttiinneeee!"

Nadir:

The heartrending cries of his Beloved's name from his parched lips nearly brought us to tears every time. Endlessly, Erik would sob Christine's name until the fever dragged him under to slip into a deep sleep. The child's distress moved me to tears many a time as Christine attempted to soothe Erik's wild desperation. Repeatedly, she would caress his unmasked face as she murmured repeatedly through her tears, "I'm here... I'm here, Erik..." Entrenched in the grip of his hallucinations, he could not hear her nor see her. I was grateful now that I had conceded to Christine's desire to have Erik convalesce in his home below the Opera. The indescribably pitiful cries of Christine's name in Erik's hoarse voice made me wince from an almost physical internal pain each time. His bouts with the delirium would last for hours on end but she would never leave his side.

Initially, I suggested that Erik remain in my flat so the doctor might make his grim daily visits. Adamant, Christine contended that Erik would not wish to be anywhere else but his only refuge. In tears, she whispered resolutely to me, "If he must die, let it be where he feels safe. Let it be near his music..." With that, there was no more argument from me. Understanding that I was the only other person in Paris who had seen Erik unmasked, Christine allowed only me to remain in the house beyond the lake with her. Having learned the sensational story of the masked man shot at the Vicomte's chateau from one of my contacts at the police station, I had hurried to locate Madame Giry. Erik had been taken to Madame's residence where a doctor had been paid an exorbitant amount by Christine in repayment for his services and his silence. Later, I learned that Christine had obtained the money from Erik's home beneath the Opera. He had shown her where he kept his treasures in the event that anything ever happened to him...

As the long days passed into a week, I became increasingly concerned about Christine's health. The circles under her tired eyes were black since the only place she would sleep was at the foot of Erik's four poster bed. Madame Giry, who visited frequently, could scarcely get her to eat or drink. Whatever nursing needed to be done for Erik, Christine insisted upon doing herself. His wounds had been seen to by the doctor and the man had given Christine exact instructions on how to care for them. Even though her face paled each time she dressed Erik's wounds in his chest and side, she refused to allow anyone else to care for him as long as she was awake. Day after day, she would wipe his fevered brow and marred face with a cold cloth and sing softly to him. The few times she was able to dribble some water into Erik's parched mouth, Christine's face beamed as though she had won a major victory. Those few times that she slept at the foot of the bed, I watched over Erik for her or she would not sleep.

One afternoon while Erik seemed to be sleeping somewhat peaceably, Christine had gone from Erik's sickroom to tend to some chores in the kitchen. I was sitting next to his bed while reading aloud from an exceedingly boring, huge volume about architectural achievements around the world. On and on I droned in the same way I had done several times before. I wondered silently in the back of my mind what Erik found so fascinating in the well-worn book. Hearing him inhale deeply, my gaze flew to his face as his head seemed to fall to the side. Leaning forward, I whispered softly, "Erik? Erik, can you hear me? Erik!" Very, very slowly, his eyelids fluttered open but I did not call for Christine since he had opened his unseeing eyes several times during his feverish disorientation. Letting the heavy book fall to my lap, I touched his cold hand lightly and asked once more, "Erik?" His glazed eyes fell on me and he slowly licked his parched lips as I breathed hopefully, "Erik, it is I! Nadir! Do you know me?" In typical Erik-like fashion, he stared at me for several moments and with great effort, he rasped hoarsely, "Nadir... Am I in hell?" Gazing in disbelief at his ruined face, a brilliant smile suddenly lit my face as he fell back into a deep slumber once more. Unaware of the tears misting my eyes, I threw my head back and laughed in heartfelt relief before I turned and called to Christine, "Mademoiselle, he is going to be just fine!"


	23. Restoration

_Author's Note - I hope that you will permit me this brief transition chapter. I am already at work on the next one. My muse is being benevolent.Thank you. - Scarlett Rose_

Nadir:

Erik's convalescence was slow at best and he grew increasingly difficult with each passing day. At times, I lamented the afternoon that he had fully come out of his fever while Christine had been singing to him.

After my report of Erik's sardonic comment when he had briefly awakened, Christine became a new woman. Her eyes shone, she smiled more often and seemed to have renewed energy.

As was her custom, Christine sat at his bedside one afternoon and stroked his hair while holding his hand. Each day, she would sing something different as Erik lay unconscious. I happened to be in the drawing room reclining upon the divan so as to permit Christine time alone with her betrothed. Half listening to her beautiful voice singing softly and half asleep, my eyes were closed when I gradually became aware of an abrupt silence. Jumping up in alarm, I hurried to the doorway of the bedroom and saw Christine sobbing quietly in Erik's arms as he weakly held her. Glancing at me in the threshold, I believe that Erik smiled at me slightly. I closed the door to allow them the privacy of their reunion.

Now that Erik was recovering, Christine bustled about the house beyond the lake and felt comfortable leaving Erik in my care. Every day, she would scour the marketplace and bring home something different to entice his stubborn resistance to food. Oranges, sherbet, exotic dishes, anything and everything. One day while she was gone, I wryly mentioned that the least he could do was to pretend to eat for Christine's sake after all of her trouble. After that, Erik ate as dutifully as a child, much to Christine's apparent delight.

At Christine's insistence, Erik was moved into the drawing room during the daytime. "It will do you good not to stay cooped up in that room all the time, Angel." To his chagrin, Erik still did not have the strength to walk on his own. I would assist him in making his slow way to the divan where he would collapse gratefully while stoically attempting to appear as though he weren't collapsing.

One afternoon while Christine was out doing her errands, I had just finished making a fire when I heard a growl of coarse irritation behind me. Still on my knees, I turned to see the unmasked side of Erik's face glaring spitefully at me. Following his fever, he insisted upon wearing the mask whenever he was out of the bedroom regardless of my protests. Unperturbed by his glowering countenance, I waited patiently for his explanation since I knew that he would not confess anything were I to coerce him. Standing stiffly, I walked to one of the chairs flanking the divan and sat down with a sigh.

In a voice shaking with rage, he muttered, "I will go mad if I have to stay here like an invalid any longer. DAMN IT! I can't even _WALK_ by myself." Seething with fury, Erik sat in the grip of a growing rampage at his inability. Irritated at his impotence, his fists clenched as he trembled indignantly at his helplessness. Waiting a few silent minutes, I calmly replied "Erik, you nearly died. The illness and fever following your wounds almost killed you. I believe only that Child's dogged determination that you would live is what saved you." His chest rising and falling with labored breaths, he stared across the room mutely with his jaw set. Risking his wrath, I leaned forward and placed a light hand on his shoulder which caused him to instantly stiffen. "Patience, my Friend." Patting his shoulder, I removed my hand and contemplated what would occupy his mind.

Looking around, my eyes fell on a dusty chessboard in the corner. Without asking him, I stood and retrieved the ivory and mahogany chess set. Blowing the dust off of it as I stepped back towards where Erik lay, I did not make any eye contact with him. Moving an end table in front of the divan, I determinedly placed the chess set on the top and stood to pour us both a brandy from the decanter on a sideboard. Settling down in my chair, I took a sip of brandy and handed him the other glass. Gazing down at the chess board, I stated blandly "Now, show me how to play this game."

As Erik took the brandy from my hand, I glanced up and saw that he was looking at me with a mixture of gratitude, frustration and amusement. In spite of himself, he unexpectedly laughed heartily, sipped the brandy and began instructing me in the intricacies of chess.


	24. Recovery

_Erik_:

The first day that I was able to walk on my own, albeit slowly, out of the bedroom was the very day Nadir departed. Relieved to be out from under his ever-present surveillance, I was rather surprised to find that, after a time - I somewhat missed his irritating, annoyingly calm companionship. Unbeknownst to Christine, I was initially riled when I finally awoke from the fog of fever to find that the Daroga had been brought to my underground lair. Deliberately, I had taken great pains to keep the location of my home a secret from Nadir. Realizing the necessity which had brought him to my home since he had literally carried me there, I could not fault Christine for permitting him to assist her. Madame Giry had visited occasionally but I was reassured by her that no one else knew of the whereabouts of my hidden home beneath the Opera.

Once I began to recuperate, I was shocked by the weight Christine had lost while I had been ill. She relayed all that had occurred after I had been shot at the Victomte's chateau and showed me the newspaper clippings. Intensely, I listened carefully as she informed me that de Chagny had been committed to a sanitarium. Although Christine seemed saddened by the turn of events, she did not appear as though she were grieving the loss of Chagny in her life. I was relieved.

One afternoon as I sat before my pipe organ attempting to reacquaint myself with my long-neglected music, I sensed Christine behind me and looked over my shoulder. Instantly, she turned to the nearest table and began to furiously dust as though she had not been watching me. Chuckling knowingly to myself, I slowly turned around on my stool and murmured "Come here, Christine..." As though caught in a serious deception, she gazed at me guiltily before hesitantly approaching while wringing the dust cloth in her hands. Swallowing hard, she averted her eyes like a disobedient childas I looked upon her. A surge of profound love swelled through me when I thought of the sacrifices she had made to ensure my recovery. Lifting my hand, I lightly played with the end of her long curls before I gently pulled her to sit on my lap. Tenderly taking the cloth from her hands, I deposited it upon the floor and tilted her chin upwards. Gazing into her worried eyes, I smiled and assured her lovingly "I understand you are still concerned about me, but you need not hover, Sweet. I'll not be leaving you any time soon, My Nurturing Angel. You have saved my life, Christine. In more ways than one." Raising the back of her hand to my lips, I kissed it gratefully while keeping my gaze locked on hers. Knowing the excruciating fear and worry she must have experienced and had repressed in order to focus on my recuperation, I slowly lifted her in my arms and walked towards the divan. Sitting down, I kept her upon my lap and toyed with her long, curling hair once more. "I shall never be able to repay you for your bravery throughout this entire ordeal. What you did at the Vicomte's chateau must have been extremely difficult for you. I _always_ knew you did not mean what you said to me that night, My Love." Taking her face in my hand, I breathed fervently "I am so proud of you, Christine."

My obvious pride and heartfelt gratitude appeared to be her undoing. Huge tears welled in her wide blue eyes before she clung to my neck and began to sob pitifully. Realizing that she had been holding all of her emotions inside, I held her tight and cooed softly into her ear. Rubbing her back gently as she wept, I was nearly overcome with tears myself as I marveled that someone would care about me so acutely. Her face buried in my neck, I heard her muffled attempts to speak and released my tight hold upon her. With utmost tenderness, I murmured "What is it, Angel?"

Gulping for breath, she sobbed in stuttering breaths "I...I...wwas nearly...ssick when I...sssaid those ththings to yyou, Erikk. I only hhoped that hhe would believe mmee! And wwhen you were...sh...shhhott, I ffelt the ppain mmyself." Breaking out in renewed spasmodic sobs, Christine stammered "Ohhhh Godd! I thought you would ddie!" My eyes misted with tears at the depth of despair Christine had experienced on my behalf. As she began to cry in earnest once again, I cuddled her close to me and was determined to hold her until her emotion was spent. Endlessly, she sobbed and clung to my shirt as my hand lightly brushed her long hair. As her breathing became somewhat calm, I sensed her intense weariness and whispered soothingly "I shall carry you to bed where you can rest. You are exhausted, Angel." Lifting her chin, she shook her head wildly and looked at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes. "No. No, Erik, please. Don't let go of me... Please." Flooded with a protective love and thrilled that she desired for me to continue holding her, I smiled gently. "I will never let you go, Christine. Never..." Reclining upon the divan, I kept her settled atop me and propped the back of my head with a pillow. Christine snuggled against me as though she could not get close enough and I carefully moved her luxuriant hair to one side. Stroking her back, my other arm held her firmly about her waist. After a short time, she began to twitch and breathe regularly. Smiling indulgently, I knew she had fallen asleep and was more than willing to lie there holding her for the rest of my life.

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Hearing a log fall on the fire, I abruptly awoke and blinked rapidly in disorientation. Although I had regained most of my strength, I was unused to napping even though a constant weariness since I'd been shot had made it disgustingly easy for me to fall asleep at midday. Closing my eyes once more, I smiled slightly and quite naturally nuzzled my cheek against the top of Christine's soft hair. Suddenly, my eyes flew open as I stared down in absolute astonishment. Christine was sleeping peacefully in my arms and snuggled against my side! I was lying on my back and her head was pillowed upon my shoulder as my arm wrapped around her waist. Shock, stunned surprise and incredulous delight churned within me in a storm of perplexity. Slowly recalling what had precipitated my lapse of consciousness, I tried to relax so as not to disturb her slumber. Still, I was overwhelmed that Christine lay sleeping in my arms. How naturally she fit against me! With a start, I sadly realized that I had never – in all of my life – woken up next to another human being. Timidly, I gazed down at her in reverent adoration. She was so incredibly beautiful and she slept as bonelessly as a child. Her arm clasped loosely about my waist and she had somehow slung her leg over mine. The lilac gown she wore was utterly crumpled and her hair was tangled and mussed. She had never looked more beautiful to me. Timorously, I lifted my hand and gently moved the scattered locks of hair from where they had fallen over her face. Awed by the intimacy of holding Christine as she slept, I selfishly hoped it would be a long while before she awoke.

Eventually, the awed wonderment I felt at holding her next to me began to develop into a vital piercing awareness. I could not help but notice the warmth of her feminine form against me, the intoxicating fragrance of her shampoo and the curve of her hip beneath my hand. As though scorched, I moved my hand upwards until it rested at her waist. Even so, the sweep of her slender waist made me close my eyes as I sinfully reveled in her nearness. I was, after all, a mere man who held the woman he desired more than life itself within his arms. Hating myself for even thinking of such things, I wryly came to the realization that I must be feeling better because of the intense physical consciousness pulsing through me at her proximity. As I was convalescing, my weakness kept me exhausted and horribly weak most of the time. My alert cognizance seemed to return with a cruel vengeance as I held Christine while she slept. Resolutely determined not to take advantage of her as she slept, I tried valiantly to ignore the temptation of her relaxed body beside me but I was viciously aware of her every breath and movement.

At last she began to stir sleepily and I swallowed hard as she seemed to instinctively burrow closer against me. Christine made incoherent, drowsy hums of sound and appeared to be ready to fall back to sleep until she apparently had the same reaction which I had experienced earlier. Sharply, her head came up and she looked up at me in surprise. Smiling wordlessly at her expression, my hand began to lightly rub up and down her side until the awareness of her curves halted my hand once more. Upon gazing up at me, Christine eventually smiled sleepily and rested her head against my chest. Softly, she whispered in a thick, contented voice. "Erik..." Worriedly, I summoned all my self-discipline to restrain from grabbing her within my arms and kissing her. Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I uncharacteristically cleared my throat and managed "Did you sleep well, My Dear?"

Nodding sluggishly, she murmured "Never better." Sighing in contentment, Christine thankfully seemed unaware of my torment and breathed slowly in apology, "I am sorry I cried like that, Erik. I was simply overcome after keeping all of my anguish inside for so long. Thank you for holding me." Unable to answer, I stupidly nodded before I realized she couldn't see me. Desperate to move from her before I did something I would regret, I asked shakily "Shall I get you something to drink?"

My entire body went completely rigid when her hand began to lazily brush up and down on my chest and torso over my shirt. As though she had woken up in my arms every day of her life, she replied sleepily "No, but thank you..." Absolutely certain that Christine innocently had no idea that she was slowly driving me insane, I nevertheless did not wish to hurt her feelings. With what I hoped was studied casualness, I took her hand in my own and raised it to my lips. Her hand then broke free of mine as she cupped my deformed cheek and slowly tilted her head until she was smiling up at me dreamily. All of my control snapped at the expression in her hooded eyes and I caught her within my arms before lowering my lips to hers. The intensity of her enthusiastic response undid me as she returned my kiss frantically. Whimpering, I kissed her with a growing savagery and unthinkingly flipped her onto her back reversing our positions. My insatiable lips had trailed from her mouth down to her neck where I consumed her skin hungrily. Thinking her flesh the most delicious delicacy my mouth had ever tasted, I kissed her sweet skin as though I would die without her. Dimly, I felt her hands bury in my hair as she whispered my name over and over. I was spiraling out of control in a driving hot passion and trembling brutally. Panting, I slowly turned my head to the side and attempted to force myself to sanity. I could not do this... I had to stop it now. Keeping myself raised over her as I rested on my shaky forearms, I grit my teeth as her hand brushed my hair back from my brow. Inhaling deeply, I finally regained control enough that I trusted myself to look at her. Christine gazed up at me with such an inviting, unintentionally erotic expression that I groaned and closed my eyes. As though understanding my ever-waning attempt at control, she whispered softly "Erik... It is all right. Please... We...we are to be wed. I..." Refusing to look up at her again, I concentrated intently on the simple act of breathing. Her hands slid to the back of my head and she gently pushed until my ruined cheek rested against her chest. Hearing her heart beat wildly beneath me, I closed my eyes and reveled in her closeness even as I battled with a nearly overpowering lust. Calming somewhat from her fingers running through my hair, I felt her tremble slightly and wondered if I had gone too far. Thinking that Christine had begun crying, I gazed up worriedly and was shocked to see her trying not to laugh. Tilting my head curiously, I frowned in bewilderment and she touched my chin in apology before laughing softly. "Oh Erik, I'm sorry... It is just that..." Making an effort to hide her merriment, she smiled and whispered with shining eyes "I think you are finally well and have regained your strength, Beloved." Hoarsely, I laughed aloud and weakly dropped my forehead to her shoulder. Laughing together, our mirth released the incredible tension which had built between us. Lifting my head, I smiled in amusement and wiped the tears from her eyes. Beaming up at me, Christine held me within her arms and quipped flirtatiously, "I think we should be married soon, yes?" As I gazed down upon her in all her disheveled glory, I experienced a surreal sense of fulfillment. Surely this glorious woman would not willingly give her life to me. I had been given another chance through her love. Christine's selflessness had literally and figuratively saved my life.

Cupping her face in my hands as though she were fragile porcelain, I whispered breathlessly "Yes. Yes, we should, my Stunning Angel." Awestruck, I gazed upon her beautiful face in wonder until she reached around my neck to kiss me again.


	25. Anticipation

This is a transitional chapter but I felt it was necessary to see Erik out of his illness. ;-

Each day, I would purposefully go for walks in the Opera corridors until I felt the sickening weakness assuage me once again. Christine stubbornly insisted that she accompany me but I realized she was greatly concerned about my wellbeing. Every day, I would try to go a little farther than the day before until one morning I resolutely declared that I would escort Christine to the market two months after I was shot. She protested but I adamantly fastened my cape around my neck. Hearing her sigh in exasperation, I walked behind her and took her shoulders gently in my hands. Kissing her soft brown hair, I whispered, "Thank you for being so concerned, My Dear. The air will do me good." In concession, I added flatly, "And I promise will tell you if I get tired." Turning to me, Christine smiled brightly at that and nodded before reaching up on tiptoe to kiss my chin. I knew that I would never get used to the small, precious displays of affection she showed me on a daily basis. Awed, I rubbed my chin reverently with my fingertips and stared after her as she bustled away to get ready.

As we stepped outside onto the Rue Scribe and into the fresh air of morning, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. It had been too long since I had been out of doors. Opening my eyes and gazing down at my beautiful fiancée, I smiled and offered her my arm. Looking up at me warily, Christine reminded me with mock sternness "Now you promised me, Erik. Do not feel that it is weak to tell me if you become weary." In response, I patted her hand that held my arm and vowed, "I will tell you the very instant that I feel faint so you might carry me home, my Protective Angel." As we walked, Christine chattered away about the acquaintances she had made at the market and how the baker would always save the freshest baguettes for her. Ignoring the side glances at my mask from passersby, I could not help but burst with pride that such a captivating creature strolled alongside me. Pausing as she was speaking about needing to purchase more yarn, I gazed down at her in renewed wonder. Worriedly, she turned to me and asked if I was tired and I quickly shook my head. Lifting my hand to her soft cheek, I reverently brushed my fingertips over her smooth skin as my eyes pierced hers. Swallowing hard, I murmured, "Christine... Thank you...for everything." Of course, she had no idea what such a simple stroll meant to me. The sheer normality of such an ordinary activity struck me speechless and I experienced a moment of intense gratitude to her. Christine smiled up at me in reply as though it were of no consequence and then instantly felt my forehead with her palm as though she was not entirely convinced of my stamina. Rolling my eyes, I began to walk again as she laughed playfully. Steadfastly disregarding the curious stares I received as I walked next to Christine, I was again astonished at how easily she interacted with everyone at the market. Each person to whom she spoke glanced furtively at her odd companion, but Christine simply smiled and introduced me to her personal acquaintances proudly as 'my Fiancé '. If I was ever uncertain about her love for me, those doubts were expelled by the genuine pride and adoration with which she looked up at me.

As we headed home, I insisted on carrying her parcels as she kept hold of my arm. The trip had infuriatingly tired me more than I cared to admit but since we were relatively close to the Opera, I decided I could finish the journey without worrying Christine. As we neared the Rue Scribe, I suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out my name behind us. "Erik! Erik!" Stunned, I turned around to see who in God's name would be calling _me_ on the street. I watched incredulous as Nadir bustled towards us - his face red with excitement. Catching his breath as he approached, Nadir gazed at my stunned expression with delight. Waving a paper he held in his hands, he sobered slightly and took Christine's hand within his own. Solemnly placing the paper in her palm, Nadir closed her fingers over it and smiled into her eyes. In his thick Arabic accent, he murmured, "It came today and I could not wait to bring it to you..." At that, Christine gasped and dropped the bundle of flowers she held in her other hand. In consternation, I looked to our right and left to make certain we were relatively alone and whispered in exasperation, "Will _either_ of you please tell me what it is you are discussing?" Having never before seen Nadir run anywhere for _any_ purpose, I was beginning to worry at the secretive glances that passed between he and Christine.

Without a word, Nadir took the parcels from my hands and retrieved Christine's discarded flowers from the ground. Nodding once in departure, he stated simply, "I shall await you at the entrance to the Opera." Watching him walk away with increasing aggravation, I turned back to Christine and asked impatiently, "Will you _please_ tell me what is going on, Christine? What is it that I am not aware of?"

Still gazing down at the paper within her trembling hands, Christine raised her tearful blue eyes to me and suddenly smiled brilliantly. Clutching my hand, she whispered breathlessly, "Erik, I went to see a priest several weeks ago. I explained...our circumstances and he assured me that we only needed one birth certificate to be legally married in the Church. I left my birth certificate with him and he assured me he would petition the Cardinal for a... a marriage license. After consulting with Nadir, I left his address as my own so that I could know immediately when word was received." Looking down at the paper in disbelief, she gazed up at me once more and squeezed my hand as she whispered passionately, "Erik, he has consented to _marry_ us. All we need do is decide on the date. Oh, Angel! We will be married!" Her own exuberance settling somewhat as she gazed intently at my expression, Christine whispered worriedly, "Should I not have done so without consulting you, Erik? I was just so excited and I could not wait that I..." Her words faltered and she fell silent as I slowly took the official looking piece of parchment from her hands. Staring down at the declaration unseeingly, a swirl of emotions tore through me. Although the thought of being married in the Church disconcerted me somewhat, I was well aware how much it had meant to Christine but I had little hope for such a ceremony. Yet, in my hands, I held the positive proof that I would truly wed the woman of my dreams. Astonished, I simply gazed expressionless down for several long moments at the thick parchment as I struggled to retain my composure.

Gazing up at Christine, I saw her shoulders immediately slump in relief when she beheld the emotion in my eyes. Smiling up at me with loving understanding, she slowly retrieved the paper from my hands and folded it neatly. Tucking it within her skirt pocket, she beamed as she stated with underlying exhilaration, "All we have to do is set a date." Grasping her hands in mine, I stared down at her intensely and abruptly wished that she and I were not standing on a public street. Every longing demon within me desired to take her in my arms and kiss her until we were both breathless. At one of the most important moments of my life, I replied stupidly, "A date..." Giggling, Christine blushed slightly as a gentleman passed around us and I realized that I needed to return to practicalities. Glancing over at where Nadir stood clumsily balancing all the parcels from the market, I arched a brow at Christine. As she put her hand on my arm and we walked towards Nadir, the incredulous thought kept pounding within my mind..."Christine is going to marry me... Christine is going to marry me..." Upon reaching Nadir, I relieved him of the bulky parcels as he inquired hesitantly, "Shall I not help you..." Noting my stubborn glare, Nadir held up his hands in a defensive gesture and said no more. Kissing Christine's hand politely, he said, "May Allah bless you with an overabundance of joy." Christine smiled sweetly at Nadir who simply turned and walked back down the street. The instant that Christine and I were inside the entrance with the door securely fastened, I set the parcels down and swiftly took her in my arms. Kissing her ardently, I breathed into her hair, "My Love, you can never know how overjoyed I am. I will be the proudest man in Paris...nay, the _world_ when I stand beside you and make you my...wife." Pulling away to gaze adoringly at her in the dim light of the lantern, I did my best not to wince as she carefully removed my Fedora and unfastened my mask. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she whispered frantically, "Kiss me, Erik..." Groaning, I clasped her to me and willingly obliged her request as my heart burst with thankfulness. We were to be wed. Christine would be my bride...my bride. Christine broke our impassioned kiss to breathe and turned her head as her beguiling body trembled in my embrace. Her voice quivering, she asked tentatively, "When shall we be married, Erik?" Making a stern attempt to control my breathing and absolutely certain that the weakness I was feeling had nothing to do with my illness, I fought to restrain my lustful yearnings as I stared down at her. Inhaling deeply as Christine gazed up at me with desire etched in her beautiful features, my hand cupped her smooth cheek as I quipped breathlessly, "Tomorrow?" Holding her as she laughed, I chuckled while marveling at how Christine had turned the dungeon I had condemned myself to for the rest of my life into a place of love and laughter.


	26. Reflections

(Note: I have not yet figured out how to insert a divider in between scenes since FF formatting doesn't allow it anymore. Between different scenes I have written (Scene End). If anyone knows how to accomplish a divider within a chapter, please PM me. )

Upon entering the dark, cool interior of the cathedral, Christine paused as the ever-wafting scent of sacramental incense surrounded her. A reverent hush caused the shutting of the heavy wooden door echo within the deserted sanctuary. Looking around her tentatively, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and clutched a reticule severely within her gloved hands. Her footsteps resounding upon the floor up to the high ceiling, she hesitantly moved towards the elaborate altar. A short, stout priest drew near her silently from behind and asked politely if he could assist her. Having not heard the footfalls of the man since his shoes were constructed of a heavy cloth, Christine jumped in startled surprise as she turned towards him. Placing a hand over her heartbeat, she blushed furiously and explained, "Forgive me, Father. I did not hear your approach and thought myself to be alone."

Smiling in understanding, the minister answered in a soft tone. "None are ever alone in God's house, my child. Is there something I might assist you with?"

Blinking rapidly, Christine shook her head and explained "Oh no, Father. You see, I shall be married here next week and...I was simply stopping by on my way home."

"Ahhhhh…" The minister smiled in sudden comprehension. "It is a grave commitment, Child. I do not wonder that you wish to reflect upon such a momentous occasion." Pausing, he inquired, "If I may be so bold, who shall be officiating the ceremony?"

Christine smiled slightly and replied, "Cardinal Beauvais will be performing the service. It will be a rather small ceremony."

The priest was obviously impressed that the Cardinal would be overseeing the wedding. His eyebrows raised, he murmured deferentially, "You must hail from an influential family, my dear. I have not known the Cardinal to officiate very often. Are you a member of the parish?" Clearly desiring an explanation, the curious priest thought to himself that surely this pretty, young woman must be of some importance.

Lowering her eyes at the priest's surprise, Christine shook her head with a faint smile and clarified, "The Cardinal is marrying my fiancé and I as a personal favor to me. Our circumstances are rather unique…. " Looking up when the priest asked if she was a member of the congregation, Christine answered earnestly, "Oh yes, monsieur. I have been attending Mass here for the past three years." Desiring to rid herself of the inquisitive priest so that she might have time for private reflection, Christine did not wish to appear rude.

The priest left wondering as to the cryptic association between Christine and the Cardinal, he bowed slightly. "Please forgive me, mademoiselle. I wish you every imaginable happiness. Do let me know if I may be of any service to you."

Thanking the priest, Christine turned gratefully towards the altar and walked down the main aisle. Shivering, she thought that the following week she would walk this aisle to her Erik. Her heart overflowing with happiness, she halted near the front and knelt next to the pew before entering to pray. Her head bowed, Christine solemnly thanked God for the wondrous man He had given to her as her husband and prayed she would be a good wife.

(Scene End)

A fortnight after Christine had received the letter from the cardinal who had consented to marry us, I escorted her to the Giry's one blustery afternoon. Amused at her poorly concealed excitement, I watched as she and Meg greeted each other exuberantly and proceeded to talk together intently. They were to set off that afternoon various to a dressmakers for Christine's bridal gown. Still stupefied that Christine was actually going to marry me and not quite believing it lest she justifiably change her mind, the nagging, insecure, demon inside reared its threatening head but I mercilessly shoved it aside. Later, I thought to myself. I can attend to those morbid thoughts later when I was alone. As Madame Gary approached, I bowed formally while Madame merely gazed at me with a knowing smile which irritated the hell out of me. Scowling at her briefly, I remained standing just inside the threshold.

After receiving assurances from Madame Giry that she would watch carefully after Christine overnight, Meg and her mother discreetly left the room for which I was silently grateful. Taking Christine's small hands in my own, my worried eyes gazed down at her as I breathed softly, "I will not be easy until you are back home, Angel."

Looking up with an understanding smile, Christine did not reply to my concern but I was held captive by the understanding expression in her bright, blue eyes. Without a word, she reached up on tiptoe and tenderly kissed my lips in a tacit promise that needed no utterance. Conscious of the Giry's in the next room, I resisted the urge to gather my Beloved in my arms and instead brushed the backs of my fingers upon her cheek. Gazing into her reassuring eyes, I nodded once and found I could not speak as my throat closed with emotion. Seemingly comprehending my irrational fear, Christine whispered soothingly, "I will miss you, too, my Love." Her eyes shining brightly, she smiled, "But this is an errand that I have _so_ looked forward to! I hope to be a beautiful bride for you, Erik."

Swallowing hard, I leaned over her hand to kiss each of her palms before straightening and vowing, "You shall be the most stunning bride ever to grace a church, my Christine." Sensing a presence behind me, I turned to see Madame Giry standing in the hallway with her hands folded in front of her. Hating the childish fear that gripped me at the thought of being alone again, I took one lingering look at Christine and stated curtly to Madame Giry, "I shall return on Sunday afternoon." Turning on my heel and causing my cape to whirl around me like a dark, forbidding omen, I departed swiftly before I made a complete fool of myself.

(Scene End)

Downing another brandy, I sat before the fireplace in taciturn agitation as Ayesha hopped onto my lap. Not in the mood to entertain her, I placed her back upon the carpet and received a look of disdainful reproof.

I despised being alone and the realization of that simple truth frightened me.

In the past, I had always lived in solitude. With disconcerting understanding, I recognized that I had become accustomed to Christine's gentle presence. Absentmindedly rubbing my palm over my heart, I stared in horrified stupefaction at the quiet affirmation.

I needed her. I had come to...depend upon her to be there.

_What in God's name was I thinking?_

Standing up suddenly, my eyes darted around as though I were seeking escape. Not from Christine. I would never desire to be rid of her. But I had long since learned that I could trust no one and now... Now...I counted on her.

My eyes fell on my pipe organ and spied a small envelope which I had not noticed earlier. My arm reaching for it before I even took a step, I stumbled towards the letter like a thirsty man to a desert mirage. Both a sickening dread and an even more sickening hope warred within my heart at the sight.

Grabbing the envelope in my hands, my fingertips lightly grazed the copperplate handwriting which bore the inscription _'Angel'_. Carefully opening the letter, my mismatched eyes misted as I read the simple note:

_My Erik,_

_Do not fret. I shall be home soon._

_I promise._

_I miss you, too. _

_All My Love,_

_Your Devoted Bride_

Pressing the letter over my heart, I closed my eyes and swallowed back tears of relief. _'Home'_...she had used the word 'home'.

Yes, everything would be all right.


End file.
